


Have You Ever Seen a Happy Man Do Drugs?

by HugsNotDrugs



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: "This slow burn is slower than i thought", Alternate Universe - Drug Dealing, Alternate Universe - Not Related, Angst, Drug Use, Dubious Consent, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Morty suffers a lot, Pseudo-Science, Sexual Abuse, Slow Burn, Stockholm Syndrome, Suffering, Underage Prostitution, Unreliable Narrator, almost unnecessary amounts of angst, at some point, they'll be alright at one point
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-04-16 03:19:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 17
Words: 23,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14155506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HugsNotDrugs/pseuds/HugsNotDrugs
Summary: *I'm still working on this, i swear! massive slowdown because of school.AU! Morty Smith is desperate for money to help his broken family and his life just so crosses with that of Rick Sanchez, an intergalactic mad scientist and... drug lord? was this in the script?*some stuff i haven't tagged because of spoilers ;u;





	1. Some Sort of Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> ey remember when i said i dont upload unfinished stuff because there's a 99% chance i dont finish what i start? yeah i got impatient
> 
> uhm, this is an au yes, written from morty's pov (for now)
> 
> getting fancy and doing chapters wooo

“Hey mister, how much for this ice cream sandwich?” I flipped the mint ice cream over in my hand, looking at the print on the label that said “Minty Mint”. It was such a stupid name that I almost wanted to chuck it, but then I’d have to pay and I don’t know the price yet.

“One-fifty, boy. Read the price tag.” The store owner covered his phone’s mouthpiece, annoyed that I interrupted his gross absorption in his call. His brown moustache twitched animatedly as his mouth moved faster and faster and I was able to pick up a few loose words I learned in 7th grade Spanish.

One-fifty, that’s a quarter more than the 711 down the street, which decided to selfishly burn down a week ago. I crinkled my nose in disgust but placed the ice cream on the checkout counter anyway. It was better than normal, sad ice. The store owner’s moustache drooped dramatically with his frown when I tapped the counter, which I don’t really get because I’m a customer, right? Better than those hobos that come in to try and sneak some lottery tickets or booze. Better by a mile.

I pulled out two dollar bills, cringing inwardly at the slight sogginess in them. Money was money, though, and I stared stonily into the store owner’s eyes, daring him to reject the bills. He put his hand over the phone again as he nestled it between his shoulder and cheek, the other hand fishing out coins for change from the cash register.

Now I don’t mean to brag or anything, but while math has never been my strong suit, I am very proficient in counting change and seeing if people conned me. I got thirty-two cents back, and I could hardly ask the man what the tax rate was nowadays, so I just pocketed the silver and bronze coins. Maybe I could save up for a newspaper next time to be up-to-date on current information. I nearly chuckled out loud at the thought. As if I’d waste my money on those pseudo-sophisticated scraps.

The automatic doors of the dingy convenience store slid closed behind me as I stepped into the blaring heat of the July sun. I pressed the ice cream to the side of my cheek, letting out a small sigh of relief as the cold tended to the forming bruise there. After that stopped throbbing, I unwrapped the ice cream and threw the package in the nearby trash can, more eager for the treat than I’d have liked to admit. I gave a wince as my jaw screamed with the effort to open more than a few degrees. 

Next time, I won’t give head to fucking psychos.


	2. Empty, Broken House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> exposition whee !! chapters will get longer probably, but right now im just setting up the backgrounds yes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -furiously works before spring break is over-
> 
>  
> 
> ive set a rule of one swear word per chapter xD 

“Hey Beth, I’m home.” I closed the front door behind me with a slam. My mother grunted in dissatisfaction at my lackluster tone, but I wasn’t about to put up a cheery front for a woman who couldn’t pull it together to feed her kids for just a few more months. A few more months, and I’d be eighteen, free from this hell hole, get a job or join the military or whatever shit adults do. Anything to get out of this broken house.

How a surgeon-reduced-to-cashier could still think to waste her money on bottles and bottles of wine was beyond me, but I swept them all into the trash bin, letting them rattle against each other. She lifted her sticky face from the kitchen island and mumbled something about washing up and going to bed. I watched her step unsteadily down the dim hall, one hand bracing the wall for support. It used to make me sad that she’d been so ruined by the divorce, until I found out that she used the child support checks for more booze.

I listened to the faint sound of her bedroom door closing. She didn’t bother to ask why I got home at one in the morning.

\---------------------

A shrill scream echoed throughout the house, and my bloodshot eyes snapped open. The LED lights of my alarm clock blinked 3:12 am. I couldn’t shake the heavy feeling in them, like really round grapes that’ll fall out of my head if I tilted my skull the wrong way. I’d hardly fallen asleep, trying to ignore the sick stickiness in my ass that I couldn’t wash out. No amount of opioids or cocaine was worth a broken condom. The dealers never bother to have condoms on them for some reason. A few more times though, and then I could pawn off the drugs to pay for at least a part of Summer’s treatment so the hospital will do _something_. And better condoms.

I rolled out of bed, overshooting and landing on the floor with a _whump_. Ugh, I’m so tired. The screaming had diminished to stuttering crying, and by now I was less than impressed with the interruption of my sleep. I walked into Beth’s room and watched as she cried into her pillow, clawing at her belly, as if she wanted what was inside to get out, out. A monster, perhaps, this time? With slitted eyes and sharp teeth? Or with a strawberry blonde ponytail, like my older sister, who is currently hospitalized? Honestly, it’s a coin toss.

I reached out a hand to slap her awake and she looked at me wide-eyed, tears dripping down into the corners of her stunned blue eyes. I tried not to sigh too heavily through my nose as she curled up onto her side and fell back asleep.

_Just turn her in, you could do it. Turn her in, get into a foster home and live out your days in comfort. Heck, maybe these people will actually love you._

No, it’d never work. Summer needed the money and she needed it soon, therefore _I_ needed the money and _I_ needed it soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! gosh, i really don't know if my pacing's alright
> 
> i tried my best with research and all, but i dunno how a lot of things work T^T


	3. All Drown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ach, just read it!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woo this one's long-ish! probably cuz i put two into one, but the segue was the re o k? dun judge me TnT

“Hey, how’s my favorite little brother doing?” Summer’s voice through the payphone was thin and scratchy, and it worried me that I couldn’t be sure if it was the phone or her actual voice.

“I’m your only brother, Summer.” A smile reached my lips despite myself, and I hoped she could hear it through the phone. It was so good to be able to talk to her, to know that she’s alright for now. It reminded me that it’s all going to be worth it.

“Thanks for playing along, lil’ bro. Loads of fun as always.” She joked back.

“Not much time for fun these days, eh?” The other side went quiet. 

_Stupid, stupid! You called to make sure she’s okay, not to burden her with your petty little problems! You’ve gone and done it now._

“Oh, Morty!” It broke my heart to hear her little sniffles through the phone. “I really shouldn’t have gone to college and left you alone, I really shouldn’t have.”

“No, Summer, don’t even think that. The scholarship was a one-in-a-lifetime opportunity, I can’t ask you to leave behind your dreams. Besides, when you can afford a mansion I’ll get to stay over, won’t I?” I tried to lighten the tone, but I could tell she wasn’t deterred.

“So much for that, what with the car accident and golly! Turns out you’ve got aortic dissection! Have fun with the pain and fainting for the rest of your life, however many days that’ll be.” Her voice was edged with annoyance, though thankfully not hopelessness. If she gave up, I knew I’d follow soon after, and then where would we be?

“A little illness can’t keep my sister down! I’ve been working real hard at that furniture store, Summer, the one a few minutes away from the house. I’ll be sure to send all the funds to you. It’s all for you, sis.” Furniture store. I’m a genius.

“I really don’t deserve you, Morty.” I couldn’t breathe. I felt my heart get squeezed like a pulped orange with juice running down its sides.

“You don’t, Summer. You deserve way more.” My voice was quiet. I wasn’t sure if I could speak any louder.

The phone gave a loud beep in my ear, indicating my time was up. I’d only brought 50 cents so I hung it back on its rusting rack.

I wonder what she would think if she found out how I really got the money.

As if on cue, I heard a deliberate cough behind me. I turned to see a potbellied man in office clothes, middle-aged, and in a tacky face mask. My eyes automatically darted to his hands by force of habit. I spied a silver band around his ring finger, nothing very fancy. So, a middle-class worker, out at 10 at night, probably in a spat with his wife and desperate for a warm mouth. He seemed harmless enough, looked just as he claimed. Obviously he had some loose morals to meet a kid for drug-dealing and sex but I’d learned over time. Like we had arranged over voice call (safer for both sides), I struck a casual pose and began our preset dialogue.

“Good weather, eh?” I motioned my other hand at the pitch-black sky just as a lady passed within earshot. I cursed myself as she looked at me with bewilderment that turned into amusement. Thankfully, she moved on and I glared at the dealer, making sure he’s not snickering beneath that mask.

“Yes, great night for a stroll in th- in the park.” His voice came out rather nasally and he had a persistent stutter. The man reached out his hand also and we shook without much feeling. He led me to a quiet alley and I made sure my box-cutter was still in my pocket. He took out a nondescript paper bag and I peered inside, wafting some of the substance towards myself to make sure he wasn’t selling me short. The acridness of the coke made my eyes water a bit.

I put the bag into the other pocket of my hoodie and zipped it up before dropping to my knees in front of him. He leaned against the brick wall of the alley, eyes alight with anticipation. I undid his zipper with one hand and pulled down the elastic band of his boxers, assessing with my eyes what size condom he’d need. His penis was entirely unimpressive flaccid and it didn’t take much imagination to know how it’d look erect. I pulled out a regular size and fitted it over his dick, trying not to touch him but keeping it subtle. The first time I instinctively wrinkled my nose when a dealer pushed his slimy cock in my face I left with a bruised cheek and cum dripping down my thigh.

I schooled my expression into one that feigned innocence and maybe even a hint of eagerness for sucking the dick in front of my nose, a skill usually reserved for “clients” who seemed a little dangerous, not a flabby family man. It never hurt to push the act just a little bit though, so they come back for more. With more. I nuzzled the shaft and mouthed the length of it gently to get it erect. It twitched to life before me, standing taller than I was and I remembered flashes of that horrible day, when the filthy man towered over me, too, and implicitly issued the order. _Make me come, and you’ll leave with an unslit throat._

I swallowed the lump lodged in my throat. A teenager trading his body for drugs and money was just as bad as a cheating man accepting oral sex from said teenager, I was in no place to have pride. I stretched my lips over his cock, letting my tongue trace along his glans. I relaxed my throat until my nose almost reached the brown pubic hairs that framed the base of the organ. I constricted my throat, letting the pressure ripple from the tip to the root. The man let out a pleasured moan, reaching out to touch my hair and face─ probably for support. 

_3\. No touching._

My hand snapped up automatically from the rugged cement to push him away, but I caught myself in time, settling for a hum instead to remind him of our terms and conditions. Terms and conditions that, y’know, hopefully he didn’t gloss over like the ones for Apple or something.

However, right as I hummed, he drew his hand away like he’d been burned. I looked up at him in confusion to see that his eyes were closed, whispering under his breath banal phrases like: “Oh, yeah, that’s good” and “Keep doing that”. Guy was probably trying to imagine his wife, so feeling my short brown curls would break the illusion. I glanced sideways and saw his knuckles tipped with white. I could feel he was close, so I hollowed my cheeks and sucked as hard as I could, doing a stuttering motion with my throat that made my Adam’s apple undulate. Up and down. Up and down. Getting on my knees was a practiced routine for survival that would be a dance if I put any actual feeling into it.

At the last few moments, his control got shaky and he thrust roughly into my mouth with an ungraceful rhythm. I let my jaw go lax as he slipped out with a sigh, the see-through plastic of the condom now clouded over with semen from inside. I rolled it off carefully and he tucked himself back into his pants.

The man made a nervous noise as I pinched the opening of the condom closed, ready to leave. “Uh… before you go, can I- can I kiss you?” He looked at me with big, childish eyes in the darkness of the alley. He sounded so awkward and scared that I had to hold back laughter. Sex was one thing, kisses were more personal, but at this point, my body belonged to anyone but myself, so I only let him as he put a fleshy hand over my eyes and pressed his lips to mine, the kiss more chaste than I expected.

“Y-you’ve got my contacts.” He sniffed loudly, pulling back on that dumb mask before darting a brief glance at me.

I watched him slink out of the alley with weighted shoulders, a grin stretching my cheeks as the man who came to me for release left with anything but. I erupted into laughter as I left the alley, tying the used condom and flicking it into a trash can. It was all just so funny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> are you disappointed? please dont be disappointed :'c i feel bad for making it so slow xD
> 
> as always, thanks for reading!! ;u; updates won't be regular, but i'm- i'm trying xD


	4. Don't Be a Downer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> angsty ruminations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kinda short, but mentally exhausting to write and the angst made me suicidal for about.... 7 hours so hERE <33
> 
> i just remember everythign i learned about writing from edgar allan poe and all this stuff about unity and im like unity? never heard of her 
> 
> our babe morty is getting real soft and angsty lmao, where has edgy boi gone? 

_You’re fucking disgusting._

I thought to myself even as I took another drag, letting the smoke curl on my tongue softly and slither out through my nostrils. The snowy wisps danced fluidly, illuminated by the morning sunshine, and within the wisps, I searched for the will to live.

Of course I wanted to keep going, my whole life was now dedicated to saving my sister. I’d walk a thousand miles for her, endure all the humiliation and pain of losing myself, for her. It was all I had to give. I loved her more than anything in my life. 

Except little pills and powder, apparently.

I felt so god-fucking empty after every fuck, like I couldn’t even feel alone in the world because there was no me. There’s just… nothing. And it’s like I’ve been swallowed by a serpent and locked behind his jaw, and my skin was bubbling and my insides were bubbling and I pried desperately at the fangs to get out, but now there was not enough air and I’ve sunk to its broiling stomach, just waiting to be broken down and disappear. How could someone who doesn’t even exist feel pain?

I sought the remnants of myself in stimulants, mostly. I would get a dime-bag of something, and I would take a tiny bit before selling the rest. Only a little bit, god, only a little bit each time, and I went into the city to call my sister so it would remain that way. And each time she told me how much she loved me and I was reminded of how much I loved her. I knew that each gram I took from my earnings was siphoning off a part of her life, but I couldn’t take feeling like a ghost any longer. 

A hit or a line gave a pleasant buzz, made the colors a little less dull. It connected my brain to my nerves, so that I’d spend a good few minutes just sitting and feeling the blood course through my veins. Inevitably, the good feeling fades, no matter how much I grab at it, and I’m left with not the emptiness, but the self-hatred. I may be cynical, sarcastic, and distrustful, but I don’t hate the world. I hate myself. I hate myself for taking what I don’t deserve and still wanting more. I want my mommy. I want to be a kid again.

I want. I want.

_Why does it matter what you want when you are so despicable?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading, dears <33 ik its slow but we're getting there!!
> 
> comments/kudos/feedback are appreciated ;u;


	5. It's Going

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the ins and outs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bam no update for over a week because i didnt know to transition this is what i warned you about!! and then i took breaks to write later chapters >u>; -SWEATS-

“Thank you very much, ma’am, have a nice day.” I smiled pleasantly at the lady at the cash register as I took my stamps, who returned my smile with a dazzling one of her own. I felt hollow on the inside ‘cause it was 6 in the morning, but still I smiled, because she didn’t seem the kind who deserved a bad day. I counted my change, looking at the numbers on the corners of soft bills to make sure I got back the right amount. I turned to leave when she reached out a hand to stop me.

“Ah, wait! You’re hurt. Do you want an ice pack?” My hand shot up to cover the new bruise on my face as I stumbled away from her, knocking into one of the shelves of Tic Tacs, their plastic containers clattering onto the floor. Her kindly face was confused and scared, but I only kept backing away. 

“I don’t need help.” I said, frantically pulling my hood up to cover the bruise.

“I don’t need help.” I repeated it like a broken record, faster and faster until I couldn’t be sure I actually said it aloud anymore, only a chant in my head that was ushered by police lights and bad breath and switchblades. My brain was stuck on loop and I was panicking, panicking and I just wanted to run away. My voice was shaky and came out so weakly that she couldn’t hear me any longer from so far away. I turned and bolted out of the store, clutching the stamps.

_Help. Please, help me._

Thing was, I didn’t even get the bruise from some dangerous criminal activity, I’d learned from the first time and I always brought my knife with me. I just accidentally smacked myself with the cupboard door yesterday, yet I still went haywire. It was stupid really, everything was stupid.

Once I got back to the house, I crept up the stairs quietly and reached under my mattress for a stack of money bound with a rubber band, listening for Beth in case she was awake. I laid bills out on the ground, all wrinkled to Hell and ranging from loose ones from classmates to fifties and hundreds from frivolous clients who had a little more time and a little less inhibition. Not from so-called sugar daddies or mommas, no. Drug-dealing was nowhere as glamorous as prostitution, not that it’s really something to be called “glamorous” either. People who ran brothels and such were a cleaner business, what with all that stuff about legal age and regular pay and actual facilities, and they wouldn’t take some baby-faced seventeen-year-old.

So, I had no customers who preened and pampered me for favors, only quick fucks and people with whom to barter our souls away. It only depended on how much they wanted.

I carefully counted out Summer’s money and wrapped them in a layer of cotton so the coins wouldn’t clack around inside the envelope, rushing to put on the stamps I bought so that I could send it out in the mail before I had to go to school.

I rested my fragile hopes upon the goodness of mankind as I put up the little red flag on our rusting mailbox. I sent Summer precisely $438.57 and sat there like a dumbass hoping the post office wouldn’t throw the envelope around and lose all her money, or— let’s be honest— steal it. From the mattress, I also took out a moderate-sized bag of weed and stashed it into the bottom of my backpack before also putting in my school supplies. After some thought, I threw in a pencil too just to sell the act. I shrugged on my backpack and walked to school.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you always <33


	6. Prospective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> eyyyy me likes my good-for-nothing characters. they're a lot less sad in stories
> 
> rick'll be here soon!!! can you feel the build-up??? (And by soon i mean like next 2 or 3 chapters)
> 
> the fun has *begun*
> 
> (it's ended for me cause i liked writing angsty solo morty xD)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this got american af lmao
> 
> *probably bad time to say this but 
> 
> 1\. got no beta, if things are weird blame me  
> 2\. i've never done drugs xDDD idk the drug biz, but it happens at school and we're 70th-some in the country outta 26,000 public schools and if things are thAT bad here i feel like im at liberty to write things a little worse elsewhere
> 
> kinda based on my schoolmates haha
> 
> ha...
> 
> 4000+ words!! yay
> 
> edit: remember when i said 1 swear word per chapter? yeah thats off now things bout to get... dark???? is this dark?

Passing period was seven minutes long. I made my way to the small restroom in the corner of the school next to the gym, one that no one uses because the ones in the locker room were much more accessible, and why would you use the bathroom that looks like shit? It was tiny compared to the other ones in the school, with two stalls and two urinals all adorned with cracks and water droplets going _plop plop plop_. I looked at my reflection in the mirror, ghastly due to the poor lighting and too many late nights out. My brown curls were a saggy mop since I lost my hairbrush and my green eyes were something more like week-old celery from the bottom of a trash can. 

I went into the left of the two stalls, wincing as the squeaking hinges assaulted my ears. I took a quick piss into the toilet and flushed before pulling my pants back up and putting the lid down to sit on it. I let my backpack fall onto the dirty floor with a _whump_ before taking out the bag and waiting.

The door to the restroom swung open and a moment later, I heard someone entering the second stall. His footsteps were light and I could see a strip of pasty skin between his socks and the hem of his jeans. An image of a spindly redhead I’ve seen in the halls popped into my mind. Not a problem, then, I wasn’t scared of some underclassman. The boy rapped on the wall between our stalls twice.

“Mike?” His voice was thin and high and something raspy from vaping in his car all the time.

“That’s me.” I answered, playing with a corner of the Ziploc bag. I worked to lower my voice, hollowing the bit behind my Adam’s Apple so I wouldn’t sound so similar to him. It bothered me, somehow.

His hand reached through the gap with a wad of his daddy’s cash. I rifled through the cash and when all of Summer’s money was present, I put it into one of the inner pockets in my backpack.

“Hand it over man, c’mon. I’ve got bio next and that’s far.” The guy’s voice rose a bit as his hand groped at air for his precious weed. I shifted my leg away from the flailing limb and dropped the bag at the opening between the stalls. His pale arm scurried forward like a spider to grab it and retreated back to his stall. I heard him give an appreciate whiff of the substance.

“Aw man, I gotta drop a deuce real quick. Hang on, don’t go.” His voice echoed in the stalls as I put my backpack on again.

“I’m not going, but what’s the hold-up? We’ve gotta get out of here.” I shuffled my feet impatiently.

“Lean up here Mike, I gots to tell you a secret.” The faceless student tapped a spot on his stall for me to put my ear up to. I didn’t bother.

“My old man,” he said hushedly, “he smart enough to get his money, but I done a better job of taking it! Siphon-Siphoning? Yes, I’m really a genius. You ever heard of Ass-teroids? T’san organization of sorts, they’re in the drug biz.”

I wrinkled my nose at that. “The hell? That’s their branding?”

“Yeah yeah yeah but when you’re goin’ into different galaxies for alien drugs to bring back to the masses you could call the company Dog Shit and no one would care right?” His voice was excited, like he was building up to something.

Kid’s out of his mind. I tried to save what was left: “Listen dude, I don’t know where you got this shit from but nobody’s even been to space without a ludicrous amount of money.”

“That’s the thing, ain’t it? The company’s boss, no one’s seen him but he’s going into space with just a portal gun like you see in ‘Back to the Future’. And I’d seen proof with my own eyes. My friend-of-a-friend got some of his crack. It was a pink thing and it crackled all by itself and the guy was shakin’ all over the walls after like, two lines. It’s coke but a billion times stronger!”

“Not really proof if it’s from a stranger but that sounds more like a seizure to me to be honest.” I was skeptical but I felt his enthusiasm rubbing off on me.

“Okay, so hear this, Mike. I’mma sneak hundreds, _hundreds_ to ya, Mike, if you get me 20 grams of that stuff.” His voice grew conspirative and I knew that this was something he’d been thinking about.

I perked up, now curious: “How much, exactly?” Hundreds from one client was a lot more than I usually got.

I imagined him licking his lips thoughtfully behind the wall: “$500. I’ll give you $500 if you get me 20 grams of the KLax.”

“I could do better, rich boy. Gosh let’s see… that’s only $25 per gram of a substance from _outer space_. $1000 or no deal.” I bluffed, hoping the kid would take the bait.

“Geez… okay Mike. I’ll give you the $1000 when you’ve got the crystals. They’ve got a website, www.lickmyposterior.net.”

My victory was dampened by the horrid website name. I grimaced: “Again with the butt jokes! What the hell.”

The minute bell went off, a cheery tune from the 80’s beginning to blare from speakers in the hallways.

“Shit! Wait- what’s the catch for all this?” My torso slammed against the stall door in my haste to not be late.

The experienced addict only laughed, a childish sound ringing to the ceiling:

 

“It’s fucking dangerous! Duh!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading, lovelies <333 im sick lmao probably gonna collapse tomorrow at school or something the stress is getting to me
> 
> sorry if some of the lingo was confusing, tried to get that midwestern rich-kid feel (of which there are many in my school ew)


	7. Passing Thought

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> great service, friendly staff, 5/5 stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "you waited smiling for this?"  
> (dodie clark- burnt out, great song)
> 
> end of the year, everything's falling apart and my teachers are going cray with hw sOOoo like... whoops

“Beth, you haven’t paid the bills yet.” I tapped the stack of mail on the kitchen island emblazoned with red warnings like “OVERDUE” and “DEADLINE SOON”.

“Where're your manners? Don’t call me anything but mother.” Beth put down the TV remote onto the armrest of the green couch, more intoxicated than usual as she misses completely and the object just clatters onto the floor instead.

“Oh sorry, I just thought it wouldn’t be appropriate to call someone something they’re not.”

Her arms, having grown plump in the last year with alcohol and greasy fast foods, threw the bottle previously clenched in her hand at me. It shattered on the railing of the stairs as I, startled, stumbled backward and landed on my rear.

“MORTIMER SMITH! I DID NOT FUCKING PUSH YOU OUT FROM MY BODY AND RAISE YOU FOR 17 YEARS FOR YOU TO DISRESPECT ME!” She screamed now, her chest heaving, so loudly that anyone passing by the house could hear. I rubbed my temples in an attempt to rid my head of an incoming migraine. 

“My fucking head hurts from having to yell at you all the damn time Morty, I’m going to take a nap. Think of someone besides yourself once in a while.” She curled up on the couch in a position that would surely give her cramps when she awoke.

I kicked a few shards from the steps of the stairs and watched them clatter onto the carpet below before lugging my backpack up to my room. She was right, of course she was right. I could blame and cry all I want, but she was still my… nghhh. And though she looked upon my sister like frog spawn, some days, together, were sweet. Happiness is just simply too much for a world otherwise swathed with pain, so I pushed them into the back of my mind and moved on. 

I pulled out my laptop and opened private browsing in Firefox, typing lickmyposterior.net into the search bar. I was greeted by a photorealistic butt on the home screen. Didn’t know what else I expected, honestly, but there seemed to be no way to navigate the website. I wiggled my mouse in an attempt to find my cursor. Not even that. I was raring to go slap my customer for sending me to a joke website when a pop-up appeared: “Successfully connected to VPN.” Then another one over it: “Click here for drugs, and if you’re not here for drugs there’s nothing else but a butt. Sorry to break it to ya.” My cursor reappeared and I clicked the hyperlink, transporting me to a page with contact info and various products. They all looked intense as fuck, from injectable liquid lava to glowing neon piles of sand-looking things. I found the pink powder my client was looking for and was delighted to find the prices to be about half of what I charged from him.

\------------------------------------------

_You’re connected. Best not to go take a dump right now._

Benson: Hello, thank you for taking an interest in our products. I am chief in customer management, how may I help you?   
4:29 PM

11275: thanks, 20g klax?  
4:29 PM

Benson: Of course. I presume that you know the rates?  
4:30 PM

11275: yeah i got it, who’s gonna be seeing me?  
4:30 PM

Benson: Our staff is well-trained and will treat you in no way but courteously. Feel free to mark one of our available meeting locations for purchase so that I may appoint someone to you, payment is expected out-of-hand.  
4:31 PM

_11275 has selected location #131 for 9:00 PM 09202018_

Benson: Excellent. One more thing I must ask of you: You don’t happen to be a young boy of petite stature, do you?  
4:31 PM

11275: nope  
4:32 PM

Benson: Then thank you for your patronage, you are all set.  
4:32 PM

11275\. Thanks, goodbye  
4:33 PM

_You’ve disconnected._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> muchos gracias~
> 
> merci beaucoup!
> 
> thanks yaaa <3
> 
> i like kudos and comments c;


	8. Breaking Ravine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> its a chunk of non-explicit non-con y'all, still warning
> 
> and this is as straight as it gets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the wait, finals coming, declining mental health, etc etc
> 
> i got a pretty decent PSAT score though, i say it's all the fanfiction xDD
> 
> still trying to figure out the style of this fic, it's kind of a mix between diary entry, cynical narration, and pseudo-art rn
> 
> also like sorry for weird use of words, hopefully you still get what i mean eue
> 
> \----  
> i also feel really devious when ppl make private bookmarks, like nooo give in to the s i n

As it turns out, September 20th was a shitty day, but it wouldn’t have made a difference whether it was the 21st or fucking Christmas, it still would have been a shitty day. 

I had walked to a quiet alley marked with a glowing blue glyph that could easily be passed for amateur graffiti, if it wasn’t for the fact that I’ve seen it one other time, further into the city and slightly scrubbed, but whichever cleaner was working on it gave up because was it really worth it to bust out the expensive stuff for a scribble in an alleyway? Nevermind that all the normal ones went easily. There was a red-haired woman waiting for me, leaned up against a stack of steel gallon barrels discarded from the dingy restaurant up front.

And she was lovely, so lovely that I wondered what she was doing being a drug dealer instead of a prostitute or something. Her boobs were voluptuous to just the right amount, her lips were as vibrant as her dyed waves, which fell across her shoulders like flame, and her eyes were some indescribable shade, flickering from golden to jade to crimson and that’s not fucking natural holy shit. My mind raced at the speed of light as I tried to recall what the boy told me through the stall wall: Ass-teroids. Space. Space drugs. I was talking to a fucking alien. I turned, about to bolt when the tendrils of her voice snagged me and held me in place:

“Where are you going, little boy? Are you not here to pick up your purchase?” Shit. A thousand dollars. I trembled a bit before turning back around to face her.

I watched her hips sway like a snake’s slither as she moved closer, a sinister smile curving her lips. A strip of moonlight illuminated her eye, the pupil having dilated until it was murky. I slipped my hand into my pocket for my switchblade, but it felt no more useful than a twig in my grasp.

“L-look, if I give you the money can I just l-like, get the goods and g-go? This is frankly the creepiest customer service I have ever experienced.” My voice was plagued by the stutter I had been training to suppress for years and I was afraid to breathe.

At those words she faltered, and I swore that her features started bubbling like a worked candle before flickering back to a semblance of normalcy. Scratch that, no, not normalcy. She looked absolutely pissed.

I fished the money out of my pocket and held it out at arm’s length. My arm was like a fucking stick, pale in the moonlight and looking way more fragile than I would have liked in that moment. She grinned widely and placed her hand on my wrist.

Please-

The red-haired devil pulled herself flush against me, other arm reaching to the small of my back, locking my arm in at the elbow. Within the safety of my hoodie, I clenched hard on my knife trying to pretend I could use it. When her hand dipped inside my jeans and I felt the cold fingers around my length, I used her distraction to shove her, planning to press my switchblade against her throat while she was incapacitated.

With a loud clang, her body hit the stack of steel barrels behind her and they began to tumble down. I dove out of the way, chin eating gravel as the avalanche behind me thundered. I hacked up acid, hand fumbling for my knife in the darkness, knowing that each second slipping away was an ever-decreasing chance to get out of there alive.

I held it out in front of me, eyes opened wide in the darkness. Her body was limp under the metal and I nudged the barrel on top of her aside to assess the situation. I retched acid in my mouth again at the sight but was too scared to look away lest she arose from the dead to strangle me.

She had a bloody gash in the back of her head from a groove in the barrel, gore blending in with the color of her hair. I watched her torso cautiously for signs of breathing. Her arm twitched and I skittered backwards with a gasp, but nothing happened besides a shriveling of the graying skin and her hair that receded back into her skull. In a few seconds, she was just a sizzling, skinny corpse. The wound did not disappear from her head, however, so I scavenged my unused bills and prepared to hightail it out of there. My feet stopped at the inanimate body. 

What if…? I flipped her over and searched her clothes for the pink crystals and found the bag in her breast pocket. 

I got home discreetly and stowed the bag of crystals in my backpack before realizing I didn’t clean up the scene.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! ik this part gets repeated at the end of the chapter anyway from the very first time i write it but i appreciate y'all, really
> 
> -eats a kudo-


	9. Dandelions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is just slow burn at this point, and not even building up to something good xD

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> been listening to charlie puth's voicenotes album on loop, it's sooo good <33  
> The Way I Am and BOY are my favorites
> 
> really really wanted to get to writing rick in this chapter but it got too long (what do you mean??? every sane person writes their chapters way longer xD aND you promised rick like!! two chapters ago!!)
> 
> just! more disclaimers! im reaching into murky waters here, remember im just a kid trying to replicate things like drug rings and prostitution with no first-hand experience of my own! ik that doesn't usually turn out well but i'll try to not be cringey
> 
>  
> 
> i write for therapeutic purposes as well as to save my floundering english grade, i get pts off every time for conventions so again sorry for bending the english language lmao

I have convinced myself that aliens don’t exist. How could they possibly? Just because I saw a shapeshifter literally sizzle and shrivel up upon death at my feet doesn’t mean aliens exist. Hell, the “KLax” was probably just shoddy dyed cocaine; if they could do that; of course they could.

I shrugged on my backpack like it was nothing and stepped outside the house like it was nothing. I sprinted to school like it was nothing and I exchanged the drugs like it was nothing. I tucked the money in my backpack like it was everything. And then I got ready to sprint home like it was nothing.

Halfway home, I was hacking my heart out, having forgotten how little I exercised every year prior and the less-than-substantial food I’ve been eating recently. The overworked muscle spasmed against my ribcage and I felt for sure that I was going to die. I dropped my backpack onto the sidewalk and breathed in deeply, letting my eyes press technicolor circles into the darkness of closed eyelids. I ran a hand through my hair and it came away sticky with perspiration and desperation. I felt my slowing heartbeat thrumming through my fingers. 

Bright yellow dandelions dotted the grass lining the sidewalk and I was calmed by the slight bobbing of their heads in the wind. It’s a great time to put down weed-killer.

“ ‘Scuse me.” I turned around at the voice and saw what I could only describe as a bird-man, dapper in a navy suit but face framed by brown and white feathers and a matching crest atop his head. I snorted out a laugh before I shrieked, swooping down to grab the strap of my backpack and run, but the positioning was all wrong and my heart dropped as my elbow flipped outwards painfully in its attempt to lift the bag. Tears pricked the corners of my eyes as I let out a raw groan, needing to run but I couldn’t just leave my backpack. The alien- what else could he be?- was here to take me away, rip me into shreds with not a single word to Summer, who will be stuck a few hundred miles away wondering why I’d abandoned her to fight all alone. No. No. No. Something cracked within me that I wasn’t even aware I had, and I did something I had never done before. In the shadow of a fucking feathered alien, I clutched my wrenched elbow and cried, feeling completely helpless to escape my doom.

“In bird culture, the safety of the young is highly valued. You, as a small child, will not be hurt within my vicinity. Do not be scared.” The alien spoke to me in monotone, but his voice was steady and slow, and I hated myself for immediately taking comfort in the concreteness of it. I was not a weak, mewling baby desperate for any kind of protection or reassurance. 

He crouched over me, feathered wings sheltering over us as his hand rested on my shoulder, possibly meaning to be steadying but all I felt was how big it was, spanning my entire shoulder and how I could be plucked like a dandelion in the grass, up and away. What always happen to dandelions? They get crumpled, used and abused before being thrown back to the grass. No happy endings for a dandelion. 

As my brain stalled thinking about the fate of dandelions, the bird-man stood and folded his wings back up, reaching out a large hand to me to help me up. I did not take it. At that, the alien’s crest fluffed up with irritation.

“I can not assure that you will be safe where I will take you, but if you do not come with me it will be much worse for you. It is for the best. I do not wish for you to hurt more than you have to. Time is rather pertinent, and you can see that I am not of the most inconspicuous appearance for the human public as of now.”

Regretfully, I noted that he was solidly built under the suit, not to mention of a towering height. I didn’t try to run again, but I stood up by myself, pushing my backpack behind me with one foot. I finally noticed the sleek black car at the side of the road, humming in neutral. He turned his back on me to open the passenger door.

“Sir?” I asked timidly. He turned. As soon as he exposed his throat I jabbed at the dip in his collarbone with two fingers and wound back a clenched fist. He coughed, teary-eyed, as he lunged and grabbed my wrist. I hollered and kicked any flesh I could find, but he picked me up by my collar and pinned my shoulder to the leathery backseat as I struggled. I felt a sharp pain in my arm and looked down to see him pressing a syringe-full of fluid into my vein.

My panic was dull as he cradled my head to the seat softly. My vision swam and I couldn’t see his face clearly any longer, but some part of me was sure that his eyes said sorry. Speech was the first to go, hearing was the last, and the revving of the engine murmured my last streaks of fear for me as the bird-man gripped the steering wheel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did anyone hurt as much at reading bird-man as much as it hurt me to write it? i swear morty'll know his name soon
> 
>  
> 
> thank you for your support all <333


	10. I Have a Bachelor's in Theater

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome to the only fic that makes its readers wait 10 chapters before introducing the main character
> 
> i actually had this pretty much written yesterday but i didn't wanna have it combined with the last chapter >-> wait's not too long though, have a shortie
> 
> *Roxy pills are pretty blue

My head was heavy as I lifted it up, blinking the heaviness from my eyes.

“The child is here. Goodbye, small one, may we meet again soon.” The alien plopped me down in a cold, plastic seat, his warm hands lingering to pat me on the shoulder. He had tasted the word “child” like something sickening before spitting it at an unseen figure at the edge of darkness, then dropping to a murmur to address me. The sound of his footsteps echoed to the high ceiling and faraway walls as he walked away. A warehouse? Someplace big and empty, definitely. There wasn’t much light besides a single frosty ceiling lamp and the darkness swathed everything but me and someone turned away from me, seated behind a desk between us. Over the back of their chair, I could see slicked back hair, blue as a Roxy pill.

My hands were bound behind my back by a pair of handcuffs, but as I tried to feel along the rim for the lock, I found that they were rather unconventional, the metal smooth with no indicator of a lock and the normal chain between the cuffs replaced by a comparatively thin bar. Well, that’s pretty lame. I couldn’t _see_ anything, was the problem, or I could try breaking the bar on something. Did that only work in movies? How would I do it so I wouldn’t break my bones?

I flexed my wrists, subtly wiggling them a little out of the cuffs. My bones crackled in the silence. “Hey, don’t you think you’re going a little overboard, handcuffing a scrawny kid?” I called stupidly (or brazenly, if you wish to be flattering) at the hidden figure.

The man swiveled his chair around with a swift kick, a flash of light swinging off the tip of his shoe. His electric blue eyes burned mine as the lone light above him washed down his countenance, sculpting his cheekbones and charged stare. He was dressed smartly, in a dress shirt rolled up to the sleeves and black pants. He stepped onto the desk between us, long legs making the stride easier, and practically strutted a few steps before coming down the other side to look down his sharp nose at me.

It was all rather theatrical.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i started shaping up the ending for this fic and lord it's gonna be the tragedy of a lifetime! (my short, short lifetime) much excite
> 
> i mean, i have everything basically planned out, but no idea how to get from pt 1 to pt 2 yet xDD
> 
> thank you for the support <333


	11. Tic Tac

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> what a great first impression

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's over 9000!!!
> 
> i did so much research on rape, sex, and alcoholism that i literally feel 90 "back in MY day, we didn't pull out!"
> 
> mm... im afraid there's details you wouldn't remember 'cause it was mentioned so long ago xDD
> 
> anYWAY have sum cheesy dub-con y'all, plus mentions of past rape, the tags are kicking in, and there's still more cause of spoilers! :'D

I could see his face more clearly as he came closer. I kept my own expression impassive as I scanned his features: colorless chapped lips currently turned down in a slight frown, sharp, high-bridged nose, face subtly lined, and his eyes. Denim-washed blue eyes, like his greased hair that glinted in the spotlight. From their slightly ruffled look I speculated that perhaps they were horribly confined, usually wild, maybe even sticked up in all directions. He looked about sixty, but could have been fifty based on his spryness. He was, at least outwardly, handsome. Trying to discern him at the moment was like trying to see through the metal back of a mirror: the harder you try to look through a sheet of glass and metal the more your own reflection is thrown back at you, looking like an idiot for even attempting it. What, you’ve never tried it? I don’t blame you. I stopped my scan and held my face up high for him to scan me in return.

All this happened within the seconds he approached me, and he put a long leg on the top rail of my rickety plastic chair, the other pushing off of the ground slightly bent, and leaned in way too close to my face. I held back a cough at his breath, alcohol-laden and definitely with a 20-minute old orange Tic Tac dissolved on his tongue. It barely made a dent in what must have been decades of constant drinking, the chemicals in the candy floundering to meet such a tall order and making a mess meanwhile.

His eyebrow- the normal two were connected into one- raised in the middle, bringing his upper eyelids with it. Up close, the man’s cerulean eyes were a more dangerous kind of untame, like I was on the wrong side of the glass at the tiger exhibit of the zoo and they had just brought in a wild, pissed off beauty. 

“You go and bludgeon one of my perfectly good staff in the head, she’s dead by the way, thanks, steal a thousand dollars worth of drugs I hauled all the way back from fucking Crov-T2, and worst of all, assault Birdperson and try to crush his windpipe, who has done nothing to you but be kind and courteous and you think I shouldn’t just fucking slice you into Swiss right here?” I shivered in disgust as his enraged spittle peppered my cheeks. 

He pushed off my chair, looking at me gravely with his arms crossed over his chest: “The cuffs were for Birdperson. I’m not scared of you, kid, but lay a hand on what’s mine and I’ll fuck you up real bad. Whatever you’d like to believe about me, I’d rather not do that.”

I held my tongue between my teeth, but the muscle struggled against the injustice of it all and threw me head first into the murky waters: “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but that bitch was fucking creepy and molested me. So pardon me if I retaliated in self-defense to save myself.”

“ ‘Course, I never should have worded the question so suspiciously in the script, no one would answer honestly.” The sky-haired psycho mumbled to himself, looking the closest to embarrassed I had seen so far, even if most of his face was hidden behind a pondering fist as he paced back and forth. 

He turned back to me sharply: “She had boobs! She was a shapeshifter! You have no idea how well that does for customer service, even if she did have a penchant for fucking and eating adolescent males of other species, especially if you’ve made her mad.”

“What? That sounds like a pretty contrived plot device.” I cocked my head in confusion despite myself.

“Oh excuse me are you judging someone by their biological make-up? Let’s not waste time dancing around the Cromulon in the room, though. Now you, Mortimer Smith, is it? Didn’t take too much to figure out who you were. Thought I’d have a bit of fun though, watching you sprint to school and back with that worry in your brow. You are here to pay for your own fuck-ups. If I were a good guy you’d be in prison. Lucky for you, I don’t hang with that crowd.” 

His voice transformed into something low and sinister, baritone rubbing at my insides invasively: “Oh, your pretty face does help a lot, darling. What do you have to offer me as compensation?” His eyes glittered predatorily as he grinned a wolf’s grin, too much yellowed teeth and purposeful intimidation, inches from my face. I could see every little movement of his body, every pore on his gray skin. The smell of booze– not quite fresh but probably a permanent part of him– rolling off of him made my stomach twist.

He had set it all up for this.

I was silent, only dully frightened by the unspoken implications. There was nothing else I could offer him, no money to pay for a life besides my sister’s, and I’d rather let him use me inside and out before I gave her money to this bastard. And he was right, I was very lucky to not have become involved with the law. Much easier to let him have his way, now that I couldn’t reasonably escape him. I had been here a billion times before, and each time compliance had been the key to survival. 

I knew how rape worked, knew it was the total loss of control over your own body coupled with the breaking down of ego that led to the mad, debilitating anxiety. I didn’t particularly give a fuck about the “divinity of the body” or stigmas associated with being a victim of rape, but even I wasn’t above human feeling, at least at the beginning when I was still somewhat within society. Nightmares and waking up in a sweat, muffling my cries ‘cause God forbid Beth wakes up. Panic attacks in class where I told my Spanish teacher that it’s just the stress of having to go to college soon.

I leaned back in my chair, unclenching my knees and dropping my shoulders, letting all physical defiance leave me. I kept my gaze as empty as my head, with only one mantra filling the dead space: Don’t let him have his satisfaction. I wouldn’t cry, I wouldn’t scream, wouldn’t offer any protesting reaction to satiate his sadistic ways. They always liked it too much when I cried. 

“A bit eager, aren’t you? You’re not even resisting.” The man looked pleased, the lines on his face prominent as he came closer again, running a hand down my jaw and to my neck. His once-pretty blue eyes turned grotesque as he grinned wider. My mouth tasted bitter as my eyes landed on his crotch, where he was palming himself through his black trousers.

“What a good boy you are, just for me.” I focused on the shininess of his hair as he undid his belt and hoisted me to my feet. He swiped his thumb across the metal band of my right handcuff and it opened with a click. He did the same to the other while reaching his hand into my jeans to grab at my limp length.

“Try anything and I’ll kill you. Believe me, darling.” His finger tapped the skin above my heart, his touch feeling electric through the single point of contact. Now that my hands were free, he all but ripped the t-shirt off of me, sucking marks into my clavicle and thrusting his clothed erection against what you would call mine, though if you personified it it was essentially the equivalent of a scared school boy. The copious amount of precum beading from his glans seeped from his boxer briefs into mine and I could feel the sick stickiness of it, rubbing all over my cock head and never, ever coming off.

He took my jeans and underwear off too and I hissed as he pushed me to the ground, my sensitive tip coming into contact with the cold floor. The whole warehouse (as I think it was) was actually freezing, but between our body heats, I hadn’t noticed. He grabbed the globes of my ass and spread my cheeks open. He procured a packet of lube and drizzled it between my crack. My hole involuntarily twitched when the cold gel hit the ring of muscle. Just fantastic.

“You’re so pretty and pink down here, babe. Been had before?” He pushed in two long fingers easily, scissoring them and stretching my walls. I wanted to tell him that I had to be a good lay, had to stay prettier and skinnier than a girl to get any clients at all. Instead, I gritted my teeth and kept my ass up.

“Pretty boy like you, whoever managed to have you must have been good.” He moved on to three fingers now, and an uneasy feeling crept up the back of my neck. What was he preparing for if a rapist was willing to take the time for three fingers?

“Unless, you’re actually a slut? That would explain why you’re swallowing up my fingers like a whore.” He rasped, digging his fingers in further. He rubbed at a lump of nerves inside me and I arched my back reflexively, a very very small moan escaping my lips. 

My penis twitched.

“Stilllll got it, Sanchez.” He laughed to himself drunkenly as I trembled under his touch. No, I didn’t fucking want this! The man withdrew his fingers and slurped them gluttonously, looking at me through victorious half-lidded eyes. I think. I couldn’t bring myself to look at him.

His gaze hardened as he stuck his fingers– still with hints of my own juices on them but now mingled with his spit– into my mouth, commanding me silently to suck. The sound of fabric made me look down, and he smirked as my eyes widened at his erection.

The organ was dark red at the head, slick with pre-ejaculate and sickening anticipation. The uncut shaft must have been at least two inches across and of a monstrous, painful length. It curved upwards and protruded so far from his groin that it must have had killer abs. As someone who had seen his fair share of dick within the past three months, categorizing this one as a rational fear wasn’t too far off the mark. I now understood why he had used three fingers, and how it was actually barely enough. Blood pulsed visibly through a vein running up the side of his cock, which he positioned at my entrance. 

He closed his eyes in bliss as he sank into me, stretching my ass like no one had before. It was painful, but at least I had enough breaking-in prior for the entrance to be bearable. I held my breath for bleeding that never came. The glans of his cock pushed past my prostate with a slight hitch, rubbing at the bundle of nerves repeatedly as he began to move. His hand wrenched at my mussed-up curls so that he could access my jaw from behind, biting my skin and lapping at the sweat that ran down. Through it all, he growled and groaned hoarsely, as if my teenager sweat was a pool of water in the desert.

Before long though, his thrusts grew rougher and faster and his hand moved from my hair to my neck. It felt as if the tissue of my walls tore as his aims became erratic, the thickness of his length only bearable with heavy caution. With each thrust, he clenched tighter around my windpipe and black spots ate away at the edge of my vision. I scrabbled at his hand desperately, lungs burning. I couldn’t be sure he even felt it, seeming so lost in his own pleasure. 

The images of the first time, a stained kitchen knife pressed to my jugular and eyes as wild as these flashed through my mind as I squeezed my eyelids closed, tears prickling at the corners from his rough thrusts. No, not the same kind of wild. The first used me like a rubber, threw me away. Cum had dribbled out of my bleeding asshole as I spat out bits of rock and picked them out of my chafed foreskin. The beggar had hobbled away mumbling about the next day’s groceries. This one ran his hands up and down my body like he couldn’t get enough, breathing hotly on my neck and saying things like “Yeah, baby” or “You feel so good”, smiling widely at me despite his unreciprocated monologue. I didn’t know which was more terrifying.

With a final sharp snap of his hips, he collapsed on top of me and pumped semen into my ass, still rubbing against my sore walls slowly as he came. He groped at my behind as he sucked between my shoulder blades, strands of blue hair coming undone to tickle the nape of my neck.

He finally pulled out with a _pop_ , then flipped me onto my back to get me off. Why? After a few tugs, though, he gathered my cum in his hand and ate it all. Oh.

He stood up, put the hand he licked my cum from on his chest, and bowed dramatically, legs wobbling a bit as his knees popped: “CEO of Ass-teroids, Rick Sanchez at your service.” He was an abhorable sight, oiled hair and smart clothes once neat were now disheveled as he looked absolutely satisfied with himself after forcibly copulating with a boy. His pants gathered around his ankles and his cock hung proudly in plain sight.

He pulled up his pants and went back behind the desk to grab a small syringe from a drawer. I looked at it warily as he took my wrist to inject a green liquid into my vein. After a few seconds, I felt a tingling inside my rear and around the bruises on my neck. When I reached up to feel them, they were gone.

“D’you hate me now, Mortimer?” Rick, yes, that was his name, he _had_ a name, said it so casually. He gathered my clothes and handed them back to me. I held them for a second disbelievingly. When he didn’t make a move, I pulled my jeans back on first, then my t-shirt, as quickly as possible. Despite being dressed, I felt his eyes burn through the clothes as if I was still naked.

“It’s- it’s just Morty.” I felt, for some indiscernible reason, that he should at least know my name. Or maybe it was that I didn’t want to answer his (rhetorical) question.

“Well, Morty, whether you hate me or not by some miracle or horrific stupidity on your part, you’re gonna see me once every week. Or more, who knows? You’ll follow Birdperson without resistance, and if you don’t, I’ll make it a lot more painful for you when we inevitably meet.”

I didn’t grace him with a response. What was there to say? The bird-like alien, who had a name also, Birdperson, looked at me apologetically. I wanted to hit him and scream at him for promising to protect me and then leaving me to a wrinkly rapist. Instead, I just stared at the ground as he came behind me to inject me with the same sedative he used when I got here. How long ago? It felt like forever.

Between the sedative and everything else that day, I’d been penetrated more times than the base of a fruit arrangement. I fell sluggishly backwards into Birdperson’s arms, who cradled me up like a small baby and walked out of the warehouse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for the love <33 keeps me motivated. feedback is!! very good and makes me happy!!
> 
> art calls and calls for perfection, and it is my duty to deliver. -Khada Jhin probably


	12. Opened Curtains Shut Window

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> my writing process:
> 
> 1\. where am i going  
> 2\. what life moral do i want to convey  
> 3\. how much can i make these bbs suffer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> song of the day: high hopes
> 
> (the amazing wonderful fantastic) lassenby mentioned the concern of turning away the audience so yeah feel free to leave if our good boi suffering for a good nother... 5000? 7000 words? isn't your thing (not continuously + not to the same degree)
> 
> edit: hi, it's me from the future, 20,000 words in. the angst is not gonna let up any time soon. like it will. at one point. but not in 7000 words. maybe like 20,000.
> 
> just gonna say though, if you thought this was bad, it gets slightly worse
> 
> (this is 11111 words on google doc lmao)

I woke up to the tan interior of the same car I arrived at the warehouse in. He had strapped me into the seatbelt. I realized with a start that my ass was clean, too. The neighborhood we were in was my own, right out of the entrance of the city. I stayed quiet, lamenting how close we were to my house; I had no way of knowing where we came from. The sun was going down, the tip of it still peeking cheekily out of the horizon.

The car stopped in front of my house and Birdperson came around to the passenger’s side.

“Oh, how long have you been awake?” 

“Not long.” I blinked blearily and wrung out my shoulders like I just woke up. He reached out a large hand to me, as if to help me out of the car. I regarded it coldly and nudged past the offer as I got out of the car by myself. 

The alien walked me to my front door and watched me impassively. “I feel your intense dislike for me.”  
“No shit, Sherlock. What gave it away?”

“You think I have betrayed you, bringing you to him. Now you are feeling the emotions of anger, fear, and despair.”

I toed at the corner of the house’s doormat closest to me and leaned up against the door.

“But you have to believe me, it was for the best. If he so chooses, he could hurt you, your family, anyone and everyone you hold dear and he would be willing to in order to get what he wants. Rick Sanchez gets his way and no one can stop him.”

“Help me kill him.” 

“... I cannot do that.”

“Why the fuck-” In a move I’ve mastered for no reason other than badassery, I kicked up a small box cutter I hid under the carpet for in case someone jumped me and thrust it towards his throat, “-not?” 

The tip of the blade hovered a hair away from his Adam’s apple. I looked up at the figure in front of me, who actually wasn’t even on the front step but still stood taller than me, and his shoulders, rigid with shock and fear. A slight tremor. I immediately dropped the box cutter, taking shuddering breaths as it clanked at my feet. 

“Oh my god- I’m-” I pressed my eyes together as I tried to rein in my heartbeat. What was I doing? The creature— a stranger, essentially— who had shown me more kindness in a day than anyone else in a week, was big and tall and scared of me. I kicked the knife a good distance away from me and put up my hands.

“-sorry.” I slumped against the door, suddenly exhausted. I wanted to cry, but tears were foreign to my cheeks now. Birdperson ruffled his feathers and loosened up his shoulders with a quiet clearing of his throat. He shifted uncomfortably. 

“Would you like a hug?”

“No. No, thank you. I appreciate the offer though.”

We stood silently for another few seconds, the sun’s receding rays and the odd bird chirp in the distance serving as the only signs that time was passing.

“I suppose I will be going now, goodbye.”

“Yeah. Yeah. See you. And I’m sorry, Birdperson. I didn’t mean to lash out at you like that; you didn’t deserve it.” I did. I did mean to. I wanted _someone_ to hurt as I had today, but Birdperson wasn’t the right one to receive that hurt.

“It is no problem… Morty.” My name was foreign on his tongue, but it hinted at the familiarity of a budding friendship. I envisioned an olive branch instantaneously engulfed by flame.

“I just don’t- like it when- when people give up. It’s not over ‘til it’s over, you know? It makes me sad but it makes me angrier.” _I wish you would help me. I wish anyone would help me, for once._

“I can understand that.”

“Good. It’s all anyone needs, anyway.” My voice sounded hollow even to my own ears. I waved goodbye and watched him return to the car. The sleek black vehicle hummed before he drove away. 

I picked up the box cutter that laid in the grass and tucked it back under the welcome mat. I couldn’t remember the last time we had a real visitor.

The front door clicked as it closed behind me. The house was quiet and mellow, bathed in the dying orange light of the sun that took up residence through the opened curtains. The trash can had curiously filled to the brim with empty beer bottles despite it being only halfway full this morning. I left for school before Beth left for work though, so it wasn’t too far off the mark to assume that she had consumed so many.

As I took the stairs though, I got an uneasy feeling. My bedroom door was ajar, which never happened because I don’t let anyone into my room, least of all when I’m not there. My stomach dropped as my mind isolated a clear memory of a click that indicated a closed bedroom door this morning when I left for school.

Come to think of it, when was the last time we had open curtains?

I tiptoed quietly back down the stairs and grabbed a knife from the kitchen, holding it in a stabbing position before I realized I didn’t know anything about law except it was meddlesome. I switched to a slicing position instead and crept back up the stairs. The sun’s rays had turned a glowing blood red, the color screaming warnings at me.

“Get the fuck out of my house!” I kicked my bedroom door in with excessive force and the doorknob made a crescent dent in the drywall behind it. The only sound in the room was my heartbeat pounding in my ears. It didn’t seem that anything was out of place; even the window was shut. I backed out of the room slowly, darting one last glance behind me and paced the house twice more before putting back the knife in the kitchen drawer.

I sorely regretted not wearing my hoodie today, but it couldn’t be done with the mild weather and my honestly foolish attempts to **rUn vERy FasT** in order to escape Rick Sanchez. Hoodies are great. They can hide your face, they’re warm enough for a chilly autumn night, they can inconspicuously hold things like the money you get or your trusty switchblade. But I didn’t put those things in my hoodie today, I put them in my… backpack.

At this realization, I was strangely calm, considering it was stranded on the sidewalk and who knows what had happened to it in the hours since.

Except it wasn’t. I knew.

I bounded up the stairs back to my room, where my backpack waited at the foot of my bed. I rummaged the bottom of it for Summer’s money and then checked the side pocket for my switchblade. Both items were there and I breathed a sigh of relief, glad that Birdperson was kind enough to bring my things back. I didn’t question how he got into my house anymore, only that maybe I’ll start leaving my switchblade on my drawer instead of in my backpack. 

I picked up a note I hadn’t noticed before. Scrawled on the slip of paper in sky blue ink were the words: “Saturdays or Sundays?”. 

I threw it on the ground and screamed my throat hoarse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -coughs- unreliable narrator tag
> 
> thank you for reading!! your support is invaluable <33
> 
> (my bday's coming up and i just want to write about morty's juicy booty goddang it)


	13. No Cure For the Mind but a 4 AM Stroll

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> how lame is it to have a dream about your bedroom in your bedroom? very lame

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one's- oof rough-ish, heed the warnings. i m s o r r y
> 
> gonna update my tags at some point, make them more organized and comprehensive

My room was cascaded in the night’s blue, desaturated and serene in the way it was a decade ago when I still thought the universe was beautiful. Rick was sat slouched at the edge of my bed, unclad except a pair of white boxers, looking softly into somewhere unknown. His tired blue eyes glowed in the moonlight that streamed through a crack in my curtains. He shifted his weight and I saw the white skin over his ribs ripple to accommodate, hints of azure veins like marble on his skin. He looked like a ghost; halfway out of life but uneager to be forgotten, paying brief visits to mankind in tentative attempts to correlate to beings who no longer knew him. _Are you lonely? I am._

I blinked and he was laid facing me, bare legs brushing mine and pale arms reaching up to ghost over my torso, one palm finally resting over my heartbeat. He was ethereal, a ghost of something barely there, yet he was the most concrete thing in the room, distant yet the most intimate I had ever been with someone else. I was captivated. _I can see you._

He pressed his lips slowly but firmly to mine and they tasted like the cheap chemical orange flavor of Tic Tacs. Oh, that’s new. Have I ever been kissed like that before? My hand settled at the nape of his neck to keep his face close, feeling his warm breath seeping into my skin and bubbling beneath it. I reached up to touch one of the tufts of blue hair sticking out of his head, no longer confined by hair gel, and it looked just as I imagined. It was soft to the touch in an old-man way, worn out by life’s troubles. I shuddered at the gentle intimacy of it all, soothing like a balm over my heart.

“Are you the kind that’s into pain, Morty?” What? I reached up to run a hand through his hair again, but I cried out in pain and drew my hand back as the tendrils stabbed into my skin. Little droplets of blood welled up on my palm, inky black in the darkness. His hairs had sharpened into little slivers of pain, glinting in the moonlight. Now he was all sharp edges and dark shadows, no hint of the otherworldly creature that had held me quietly, shrouded in the arms of night.

“Don’t matter, ‘cause I’m into inflicting it.” It came out as a snarl, edged with cruel laughter. I winced as he dug his nails sharply into the area over my heart where his hand laid.

Without warning, he threw me onto my stomach with much more force than an old man should have possessed and straddled atop of my hips, pinning my body down as I flailed panickedly. He blinked at me and there was no more beautiful glowing blue, only pitch black bloody sockets I scrambled to climb out of as they gaped open to swallow me alive. 

At his touch, all the strength drained out of my body. _Dear God in Heaven please don’t let me die._ His tongue laved all over the back of my neck and it burned. It burned where he touched, it burned more where he did not touch. My mind screamed of things like faith and perseverance and the reaping nature of man, but my heart screamed of piercing claws scrabbling down my back, of forcible entry through the doors of a small and fragile being inside me but most of all the darkness, darker yet darker until I was no more. 

Whywhywhywhyhelphelphelphelp

I remembered, in the midst of it all, the law of conservation of mass and wondered if it didn’t apply to things like happiness as well. Does one man’s happiness come at the expense of another’s suffering? Moreover, did I balance my equations correctly? He must have heard my wretched giggle because a second later, his hand grabbed me tightly by the throat and clenched down on my windpipe. I felt my eyes bulging out of my skull and I knew he could feel it too, in the tenseness escalating in my ass that drove him closer to satisfaction.

 _Rick, help._ Why, in the darkest of times I would call to him for help, I did not know. He, least of all of them, would answer. 

I prayed once more, no longer for life, but for death and knew I had lost an invisible battle, albeit mostly silently with grinded-down enamel and reddened cheeks.

He sharply hoisted me up by the shoulders, exposing my front as he snaked an arm around to my pelvis. A firm hand clamped around my dick and tugged sensually, rapidly. Demonic laughter rang in my ears until it didn’t, bouncing around my room which now felt two sizes too small, echoing until layers and layers of it stabbed clear through my ribs. A traitorous warmth began to unfurl in my belly as my impending orgasm clawed desperately to get out. 

“Please, please.” I gasped out, turning my head to look imploringly at him, seeking for any sign of mercy in his black, soulless eyes. 

Looking back at me, was blue. 

A single hot tear rolled down my chin as I shut my eyes tightly to that unforgiving blueness and tucked my chin into my torso, his hand moving faster and faster over my prick until

I inhaled sharply at the wetness in my pants and threw the blankets off in a panic, lifting the waistband of my shorts to see too-warm stickiness soiling my briefs. What’s this feeling? 

_Shame on you._

I drew my knees up to my chest and sat curled up, paranoid eyes peeking over the rises of them to scan my bedroom for the dreaded color. My sleeping shirt was cool and damp in the back from sweat running down the nape of my neck. 

_I can’t believe you had a fucking wet dream about him! Don’t tell me you actually_ liked _being raped?_

I dropped my head back between my knees, appreciating the divet between them that allowed space for my nose and forehead. For the first time in months, I let snot and tears dribble into my lap as I wrapped my arms tighter around myself, as if when God saw my face he would smite me for it.

_This isn’t about being oh so noble and saving your sister, is it? You’re just a horny teenager, Morty._

Spiders crawled around in my groin where cloth stuck to skin. The disembodied voice snarled.

_Whore._

“Alright, f-fuck off.” I said shakily into the darkness before walking to my dresser and rummaging for a clean pair of underwear. I listened carefully for signs of movement from the next room and when there were only muffled snores through the wall, I practically ripped the ruined underwear from my body and tip-toed quickly into the kitchen with the clean pair in one arm, grabbing a towel and soaking it with cold water from the sink, careful not to wake up Beth.

I brought the cloth to my dick and scrubbed until it was bleeding. When I inspected closer, I saw it wasn’t bleeding after all. There’s an optimistic moral in there somewhere about my chafed dick like “It may seem like too much to handle but you can get through it!” but all I learned was that what seems like unbearable pain to you is just a tingle to the ruthless universe.

I pulled on the new pair of briefs and tossed the old ones into the trashcan, covering it with an expired bottle of red wine. Apparently Beth lost her taste for those when she lost her shitty boyfriend, who got her drunk enough on red to molest her. Not that she didn’t get thirsty enough to follow along for a good while.

I staggered my way back to my room and collapsed onto my mattress and curled into the fetal position, face feeling heavy with faded tear stains. I curled and uncurled, put on all my blankets then threw them off. I muffled a scream of frustration into my pillow. Changing clothes didn’t fucking work. What did, then? I rolled over in bed, fluffed and unfluffed my pillow, then threw it off the bed completely. I needed to take a walk.

I grabbed a single cigarette from the cut in my mattress and put it in my hoodie pocket, dressed myself in jeans and my t-shirt and the hoodie on top. I glanced dully at my switchblade sitting next to the alarm clock that blinked 4:12 and closed the bedroom door behind me, leaving the knife on my dresser. I didn’t want to bring any form of defense just in case someone would want to kill me tonight.

In the kitchen again, I took a lighter from the drawer and shook the cheap plastic container. The fluid inside swirled, nearly full from the lack of use. It dimly lit the area around me as I put the head of the cigarette to the flame, taking a deep drag and watching sunshine embers fall prettily to the floor tiles. I used the weak source of light to find my shoes and quietly left the house.

The neighborhood was dark and I followed where my feet took me, thinking of a man who patted my head after we fucked and gave me a crumpled cigarette as a tip.

_”Ring me up again soon, sweetheart. Daddy’ll bring you whatever drugs you want.”_

I found myself in the city in front of the phone booth I used so often to call Summer and really looked around at my surroundings for the first time. Two, three people walked the streets, skirting along the insides of the shadows. Were they drowning in them? I sucked in deeply on the cigarette– now half spent– as a car drove by, roaring at me as its headlights set me on fire. Then it was gone and the world dropped in temperature, illuminated by a lone light above the phone booth.

I picked up the phone and dialed Summer’s number, slightly surprised at myself for being able to remember it as I was. I’m so fucking smart.

“Hello my dearest and most beloved sister Summer Smith! I let myself be raped for you! Actually, I’m pretty sure I’m just a fucking whore and I only send you the money because I like the feeling of putting stamps on things!” I grinned widely into the phone, teeth slightly open as I forgot how to breathe through my nose. It was a grin that made it impossible to cry, but I felt myself crumble anyway. Perhaps she could hear my smile through the phone.

“Oh Morty, you’re doing so well. I’m so proud of your efforts.” Her voice was warm and comforting and I felt my smile melt into a genuine one.

“You are?” I needed to hear it so badly, that I was making a difference, that it was all worth it.

“Of course. You’re my sweet little brother and you’re absolutely indispensable. You’ve been a big help to me. Thank you, Morty.”

“Summer… I miss you so much.” My lips pressed to the phone’s receiver, voice whispery as I swayed unsteadily in place.

A gruff voice cleared his throat behind me.

“Got someplace to be, kid?” I turned to see a homeless man, face gaunt and overweight in the way American vagrants were. His brow was heavy and he looked at me with a slight frown, the overhead lighting casting deep shadows under his eyes. I took another drag from my cigarette as I processed what he was saying.

“Uh- Sorry, ‘scuse me, I’m on a call, over here?” I pointed to the silent receiver in my hand, as if he couldn’t see it.

He held my gaze intently, slightly troubled but who actually gives a shit, it’s 4 am.

“W-w-w-w-what , you gonna rape me too? Go right fuckin- right fuckin ahead why don’t cha? Not like it matters anymore.”

I grasped the front of my hoodie to make some sort of point.

“What? No! What the fuck! You- you didn’t even put in any fucking coins.” He stepped backwards, hands up in a motion of repellence and bewilderment.

From the receiver, a lady’s voice repeated, she must have been repeating: “Please insert two quarters to begin call.”

“Just sayin’. I’ve got business to handle and I’m not too keen on wasting my time waiting behind a drugged up kid.”

“S-sorry.” I thrust the phone at him, feeling tears begin to well up in my eyes. I dropped what was left of my cigarette and ran home, pulling my hood over my hair. The silhouettes of the city popped more than usual and I ran faster and faster towards home, feeling them tear at my ankles a split second after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have to try rEALLY hard not to make this crack which ik- is horrible considering the subject- but i could make so many jokes out of it just to cope while im writing but that ruins the #deep effect
> 
> as always, thank you thank you thank you!!! i love hearing your thoughts <33 swear the next chapter's gonna be?? lighter?? maybe?


	14. The World at Your Fingertips

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> P O R N

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my parents would be proud of me for all this problematic porn.
> 
> aNYWAY here's rick and his depraved self. who hurt you???

In a world where I was all alone, the best I could do was have control of it. I hounded after power fit for a god.

I stepped out of the shower, working my towel into my hair to get rid of the honestly bothersome grease that I had accidentally fallen asleep in, scowling at the blue hairs that fell out as a result. I drained the half-empty bottle I left on the counter and dropped it into the wastebasket next to me, trying to wash away the feeling in my stomach. 

Remorse? Had I, Rick Sanchez, made a mistake worthy of remorse? I saw his eyes that burned with strength despite what I was doing to him, bright and alive even as I let myself loose on his pretty white neck. He made me feel so old. My cock jerked excitedly in my shorts at the thought of his body, pink and pliant in the way young men were.

I slumped into the sofa with a sigh, upsetting the cushions. My eyes swept across the snow white room, three massive crystal chandeliers hanging from a cathedral ceiling. I looked to the man making what smelled like an omelette in the kitchen and waited for him to flick off the burner.

“Birdperson, did I make a mistake?” 

He looked at me like I was a dog who was trying to lick his balls but wasn’t flexible enough to.

“You make a lot of mistakes, Rick.” He scooped up the omelette into a dish. 

“And?”

“This one is not too much different from the others. Ruining one person’s life or a whole planet’s, what’s the difference?” Birdperson sprinkled on parsley or cilantro or whatever onto the omelette. I didn’t even know we had herbs.

“You’ve changed. Too much like me now. Hey hand me a Smirnoff? Thanks.”

“Maybe you need to pay me more.” He shot me a disingenuous smile as he handed me the bottle. I took the neck of it and tilted the bottle bottom up, taking a big swig. The cold of it fresh out of the freezer giving way to the ethanol burned pleasantly in my throat.

“Fuck off.” I took another swig.

“I do not know what you want to hear.”

“I need you to talk me out of it.”

“That is... not exactly how it works when it comes to you.”

“But you’re _you_ , what are you good for if you can’t fucking help me?”

“I tried, Rick. I told you the night she died that it wasn’t worth it to go after him.”

“Oh but it was~” I let out a playful purr at him, feeling as cold as the bottle I laid on my bare chest.

“That’s gross, Rick. I thought you, for the first time, were feeling a crack in that unbreakable wit of yours?”

“He makes me feel like I’ve done something wrong. His eyes are haunting me.” I hugged a couch cushion to my chest, the contents of the bottle fast disappearing.

“Makes you _feel_ like you’ve done something wrong? You did.”

“Well what else am I supposed to do? Leave him alone?”

“Yes.”

“hEY how about that omelette? It smells deeeelicious.”

“I have yet to make a second, you may have this one.”

I took the plate from him and sawed off a chunk of egg, ready to pop it into my mouth: “Thank youuuu, my good bro Birdperson, my chummy pal. My partner in crime. Mm- wow- that’s- that’s delicious that’s a good omelette right there. You really- really outdid yourself.” I patted my stomach exaggeratedly.

“Don’t remind me. I’d rather be nothing at all.”

“Cold. You know, I didn’t save your ass three decades ago from that Florpaflorp for you to go all angsty on me whenever I do something you disagree with.”

“And if it wasn’t for me you’d be suffocating in a puddle of your own bile every weekend. Don’t act like you’re above me, Rick.”

“Plenty of- plenty of people disagree with me, Birdperson, and they either stay out of my way or they’re not- they’re not here anymore.”

He looked at me coldly, grey eyes glittering dangerously now and I knew I was toeing the line. I stared back at him through lidded eyes, slightly crinkling my brow to give my look the right touch of defiance. I also had a hangover so the frown just slotted right into “I have a light headache from too many spirits yesterday”. Rare for an alcoholic of my caliber, yes, but I had needed them.

He straightened his back and the look left his face completely: “We are out of groceries, I will go buy some. Do not get too wild with Squanchy later, you are going to make us poor.”

“Stupid Earth dollars aren’t worth anything to me, Birdperson. You think anyone can stop me if I wanna be- wanna just hack into the government? Because I-I-I-I-I-I could do that, snap of my finger. Boom.”

“That is not what you said when you came to me for help on financing, but what would I know, I am just a bird person.” He made his way down the corridor to his room and I set the vodka on the kitchen counter, dawdling on the couch which was feeling softer than a Venzenulonian’s ass instead of setting up quality control for incoming staff or paying the bills. From the couch, I had a lovely view of the court, brimming with lush bushes and trees that were becoming not-so-lush as the fall weather bit at their yellowed leaves.

“Do I look alright?” A towering man, nearly as tall as I was, with a strong stubbly jaw and feathery brown hair came back out of Birdperson’s room, hands adjusting his lapel as he let me scan his attire.

“Impeccable. I’d fuck it.”

“Thank you. Would you prefer pepper or garlic soup for dinner?”

“Uhhhh it doesn’t matter. Go wild.” I was distracted by a text from Squanchy.

Hearing the alert ping on my phone, Birdperson asked me to send his greetings.

“Ahh I can one-up you. Squanchy! Say hi to b-man!” A wired, messy-furred anthropomorphic cat pressed his nose up to the screen of his phone, eyes searching excitedly for his friend.

“How is it squanching?” Birdperson combed his hands through his hair once more, never satisfied with how it looked on his human form, other hand waving at Squanchy.

“Ayeeee mah squanch Birdperson!! It’s squanching good! You doing alright out there?”

“Without a hitch. Rick and I have been doing well with the business.”

His eyes narrowed suspiciously through the phone as he surveyed our faces: “Eh… you two aren’t squanching without me, are you?”

“DeUGH-s’cuse me- don’t be gross, Squanchy, and we wouldn’t betray you like that.”

“You’d better not, I’m the best bottom this side of the galaxy.”

“Of course, dear friend. You must excuse me though, I really do have an errand to run. See you.” Birdperson made his way towards the front door, putting his wallet inside his pocket.

“A’ight, go squanch ‘em Birdperson! Rick, I’m coming over later?”

“A-Actually Squanchy, I was thinking we could hit up this club on Aphus-Delta? They’ve got–” I put my thumb and forefinger together in the ‘ok’ pose and kissed it exaggeratedly, “–mad puss and great drinks.”

“Sure man, I haven’t gotten laid in a while.”

“Yeah? Well it’s about time you get your lil’ cat dick wet! I’ll come pick you up in thirty Earth minutes. Dress up a bit. Bye Squanchy.”

“Squanch ya later!”

\---------------

I turned the ship off autopilot and landed us in the club’s parking lot. We got out and I stretched with a pleasured moan; Squanchy fixed his tie, unaccustomed to dressing fancy.

“Here we are! Awwww yeah.” I bowed playfully to Squanchy, flourishing with my left arm to lead him to the entrance of the swanky club, right hand over my heart. It skipped a beat as I remembered doing the same to Mortimer, his bare body pink and flushed after sex, wide emerald eyes staring at my dripping red cock. 

I blinked and followed after Squanchy into the club, flashing my membership card to the alien bouncer as I passed him. They knew me, as they should from my frequent visits to their club. The club owner, a purple-skinned female dressed smartly rushes to me, nearly vibrating with excitement. Or it could be the egg vibrator in her ass, of which the controller was strapped into the garters of her lace thigh-highs.

“Rick! How is my favorite customer?” She practically fawned over me, running one hand along my suit as she leaned into me, showing her copious breasts as Squanchy looked on with palpable jealousy at my side.

“Splendid Sylvia, thank you for asking. You?” I casually moved away from her arm under the pretense of surveying the club. It was swathed in sultry wine-red light and bodies writhed in the dark corners of the club centerpiece, an open room beyond the reception lobby with a circular bar in the middle, topped with extraterrestrial marble. The club hailed horny creatures looking to hook up, offered prostitutes in a safe regulated environment, and had an atmosphere that dripped sex.

“Lovely as always, Rick, if only for seeing you. Are you up for the usual? Shall I call for Moira?” She batted her eyelashes at me, always ready to please. Good, I’ve trained her well.

“Moira shall be perfect. This is my friend Squanchy,” I grabbed his shoulder and hugged him closer to me while his eyes roamed star-struckedly at the interior of the club, “show him a good time, yeah? Poor lad hasn’t been laid in years. Put the expenses on my card.” I dropped my voice to an empathetic hush and Squanchy elbowed me in the ribs with a noise of protest. 

“Of course.” Squanchy reached out his paw for Sylvia to shake and she shows him a catalog of the services the club provided and a list of various attractive aliens for his picking.

Branching off of the main room, Moira, my regular, peeked out of one of the rooms of the hall, her red hair bringing out her glossed lips, which quirked up at me in a demure smile.

“Hey sweetheart, you’ve been good?” She nodded shyly and her head disappeared back into the room, almost like playing hide-and-seek as the anticipation builds up. I undid my tie lazily as I walked towards the room, chuckling as I peeked one last look at Squanchy, who was staring bug-eyed at the sex menu. 

I heard Sylvia murmur to him as she gestured to one section of the menu: “We’ve got lots of lovely ladies and gentlemen from Planet Squanch, do any of them strike your interest?”

“Ahh no, I’m not- I’m not picky with species or anything, could I?” His paw stretched towards the menu and I chuckled at the excitement in his eyes.

I remembered the old days of Flesh Curtains when the three of us would bed together for being sex-addicted and drug-addicted younglings, but it’d be weird to rekindle that now. I realized I didn’t have the right mindset for Moira today, at all. 

_Don’t think about it._

Moans seeped through the cracks of other rooms with customers and staff copulated blissfully.

She pressed her pelvis up against the frame of the door coyly as she smiled at me with gentle eyes, and it was a gesture tinged with the perfect amount of shyness and sexiness, but today my cock only gave a half-hearted twinge at her curves, clad provocatively in see-through lace lingerie. 

_Don’t think about it._

Moira led me into the room playfully, hands grazing over my sides and hips as I removed my nice suit and hung the articles on clothing on the clothing rack in the corner of the room, leaving on my briefs and tank top. The room was moderate-sized, with a queen-size bed and a huge dresser next to it with every kind of sex toy imaginable.

From here, it would be I who directed as she knew how I liked it, so I started with some basic sweet-talk.

“Have you missed me, darling?” I sidled closer to her and wrapped my hands around her hips, intensifying my gaze as I lowered my head to look at her through my lashes.

“Oh yes Mr. Sanchez…” She nearly moaned it, playing the role of the good whore.

“Did you play with anyone else while I was gone?” Possessive in a way I shouldn’t be, as a lavish lover myself. I’ve gone off-script already.

_Don’t think about it._

“No, I’ve been waiting and waiting for you, only you.” Moira was smart and flexible enough to play along, at this point I would normally have her by her hair and gasping in pleasure.

“That’s a good girl, and good girls deserve a reward, don’t they?” I curled a finger around a lock of her russet hair absentmindedly.

“Oh, please, Rick…” She leaned in close and I kissed her forcefully, pulling back to see the smudged mess I had made of her gaudy lipstick. It had never failed to get me in the mood before, to debauch beautiful things and put them under my control, yet today I thought it was too unnatural, the red too glaring, and that I’d prefer the natural rosy lips of a human. A specific human.

My pulse beat sluggishly.

“I’m sorry, Moira sweetie, could you just ride me today? I’m a little bit tired.” I held her cheek apologetically.

“Of course Mr. Sanchez, anything for you~” I invited her to the big bed and settled on it as she grabbed a condom and lube. She looked a little taken back by my cock, still sitting inside my briefs dormant and complacent nesting there. 

“I’m sorry Rick, am I- what could I do to make this better for you?” She looked desperate, ready to please, eyes watery.

“Gosh sweetheart, no. It’s not your fault,” It’s _his_. The thought came unbidden (or perhaps it had been building in a level 5 avalanche and decided to crush me now), but it stood out boldly in my mind and left my mouth dry and my eyes wide. I closed them tightly before blinking at her again with what I hoped was a token daddy smile.

“it’s- just try your best to satisfy me, darling?” She nodded eagerly, a little relieved that her best customer’s cock was suffering from the blues and not from not being interested in her anymore. 

She pulled the condom over my flaccid shaft and pumped and lathed it with a forked tongue, coaxing it to a laborious stand. As her hot wet heat sank down on me, breasts dangling in my face, I let my eyes slip closed to recall delicious images of Mortimer. From the moment Birdperson set him in the small chair in our warehouse, my cock was tearing at my pants to get out. I kept it under control for long enough to be classy, however. Mortimer– Morty, he had told me, and I savored the name like storing away a particularly good memory vial– was a fighter. His hands and eyes always roamed for a way to strike back, slit my throat with the fierceness of his gaze. He held back his yelps and moans because they were treasures to be sought for.

I remembered when I had spent myself in him, how he laid on the floor with his cute aroused cock draped across his belly hesitantly. The gentle pink curve of it called out to me, begged to be stroked to satisfaction, and so I did. I thirstily drank up the minute shiver of his shoulders as he came, the way his whole figure shrank and expanded as a response to my touch.

But that wasn’t the best part oh God no, the best part was his face, hair mussed up, round cheeks glowing pink and eyes ablaze with hatred and underlying _want_ , warring within his young and confused mind. If he wasn’t careful, he’d be torn apart from the inside. _My_ insides had squirmed with glee.

Well… if brute force wasn’t enough (not that I went particularly hard on him), I’ll coax the dormant monster out of him, gently, sweetly, persistently, make it so he becomes my sweet little slut who lives for being stuffed with my thick cock and begs for it at every second. I’ll make him _break_.

“You like that, sweetheart?” I gripped Moira’s breast harder as she bounced on my cock, thumb rubbing over the nipple as I closed my eyes, one hand holding her hip.

Her hands scrabbled for purchase on my chest as she hastened her pace: “Yes, ah- Rick! More...”

Oh yes, that would be delicious to hear from Morty’s mouth. And the best thing? I had all the time in the world to tease it out of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> should not be proud of how much i've written, but it's a lot for me xD
> 
> anyway, hope you liked, i love kudos and comments! you're all fabulous, have a nice day <33


	15. Last One Standing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the world around you collapses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i hate myself and i need validation but i don't cater and i still expect you to let me hurt you with a smile on your face <3
> 
> sorry for taking so long! i've been busy being unproductive
> 
> if morty doesn't make any sense, it's because humans don't make any sense.

I was awoken by the sound of a vacuum on Saturday at 2 P.M., eyes shot and throat gritty as I took my first morning swallow. The glob of mucus-y spit clawed at my esophagus as it went down. My legs were sore from running home yesterday and my temple pounded like the shriek of TV static.

“What the fuck.” I mumbled to myself, too tired to plan anything for safety as I stepped into the hall in my full clothes to investigate. My eyes widened when I saw Beth pushing the vacuum around, looking determined as I didn’t have time to do the chores yesterday.

“Hey… what’re you doing? You sober?” I brushed a clump of matted curls to the side of my face.

She looked at me like it was the most obvious thing in the world (which it was, but one does not simply wake up to their deadbeat mom sucking dust from a crack like a whore sucks dick. “Cleaning, sweetheart. And of course I’m sober!”

She never calls me sweetheart. 

“Uh huh. Yeah uh… why?”

“Geez, sweetheart, can’t a good mom just clean up once in a while, for the wellbeing of her family?” Looking at her overly-earnest-two-bottles-of-bourbon-in face, I felt like I was in a sitcom; my whole life was a joke.

“She absolutely can, and should.” I said in a voice that was not reflective of the venom boiling in my stomach.

All pretense gone, she straightened up and spat at me: “Well fine. Alan’s coming over later so help me out here. The kitchen needs sweeping.”

“Hang on, _Alan_?? I thought you guys broke up!” Alan was a tall, weedy old man with a miserable soul patch and no actual soul. 

“That was just us taking a break, Morty. I’ve forgiven him now.” She looked like a little girl, hands fiddling with the handle of the vacuum as she tried to win me over half-assedly, smiling. Smiling.

“You sure as Hell shouldn’t have.” I ran back into my room and slammed the door behind me, trying not to let the torrent of thoughts and feelings flood my brain. If there’s one thing I didn’t want to remember, it was Beth’s equally good-for-nothing, rape-y vibed “boyfriend”. Oh did I say thing? I meant person. To some extent. In actuality, he was just another testament to how far Beth had fallen, seeking companionship in just anyone’s dick and a shot of vodka to loosen her up. She, too old to be at a club, succumbs to the grocery store’s sales manager for days she gets too drunk to label tags correctly.

She lets whatever he wants to be done to her, too inebriated to retain any sense of self-worth and used like a piece of meat, and he eats her up as the predator he is, fake words and fake love as his feces that he hands back to her. She feeds on it every time, always hungry.

I nearly preferred the days she didn’t come home either, then I wouldn’t run the risk of seeing her when I came home feeling like shit. Of course, then she would be at Alan’s, vaguely mumbling something about protection before he thrusts his slimy dick into her anyway, the next morning swallowing the pill before going to work to see him again. How do I know? Because he’s not the first one to do so.

I don’t want to care.

On instinct, I grabbed my hairbrush from my dresser and dragged it through my brown mop as I swiftly logged onto my computer, looking for train tickets near Summer’s apartment. I ordered one with money from Beth’s debit for the second Friday of October— school institute day, when the higher-ups milled about eating donut holes and counting how much less they could spend on the students— then peered out of my room childishly to make sure she’s not there anymore. I crept towards the next room and put the ticket’s cash equivalent on her desk. 

I smiled elatedly to myself thinking of a call, this time of only joy as I will tell Summer I get to see her after a year away at college. Until she gets the surgery, I won’t allow her to go to work. I had over a thousand dollars to give her not counting the ticket expense, covering her rent for the month and with leftovers for prescriptions. 

My mood was now elevated to a persistent hum of excitement and I smiled through my morning (now afternoon) routine of brushing my teeth and washing my face, allowing myself a quick glimpse at my green eyes in the mirror, glittering as they so rarely did. That’s lovely, it’s been so long. Hi there, glimmer of my former self. Perhaps it was my mood, but my cheeks were flushed too, rose color dotting my face and I flinched at how similar I must have looked when _he_ touched me. There was the rose, was there the glitter of excitement in my eyes too? Did he see it as such? I shuddered at the thought. I whipped around and left the bathroom, cheeks now cold and pale again, as they should be.

My heart thumped dully as I thought of the slip of paper still on the floor next to my bed. Well, I’ll deal with it another time. I tried not to think about how soon it’ll have to be, as it was 2 P.M. in the afternoon and I doubted that Rick would be so nice to wait for a late response.

_What? Oh yes, I saw that you didn’t reply Saturday or Sunday yet, so you can have this weekend free, no worries._

I swallowed thickly, the dread clinging to my esophagus with a silent smugness.

Was it narcissistic to think that he would want me at least once every week? He had said so, gray skin blushed with the nauseating satisfaction of a man who knew he got what he wanted. I had many, many questions yet it might have been concerning to note that I ran through the ones about human goodness in ten seconds. They had been exhausted after seventeen years of being alive.

“Morty, he’s going to be here in ten minutes! Help me!” Beth’s muffled voice traveled through the floorboards where I stood, passive.

“I can’t, I’m going out to… to get groceries. We’re out.” I called to her as I descended the stairs, twirling my switchblade as I went. She was wiping the kitchen counters and pulling out a bottle of… red wine. Red? We’d been through this, she was supposed to hate red. She was supposed to hate red wine and hate Alan, yet here she was, setting up a pitiful date with him. Again. 

I swung the door closed behind me, letting inertia yell out my disapproval with a satisfying _whompf_. 

\-------------------------

The air was rainy and the clouds worried over the hustle of people, fiddling with themselves nervously in their looming, oppressive gray.

I pressed the buttons on the phone and hear their metallic clacks. As soon as the line went through, I couldn’t stop the questions pouring out: “Summer, how are you feeling? Have you been taking your medicine? Does it work? Have you checked in with the doctor?”

“Ha, you’re being such a mom right now. Don’t worry about me, Morty, I’m gonna be just fine.” She said, much too lightly.

“No, no, you will not be just fine, I need to know if the meds are working and save up for the stent. Don’t you know that mortality rate is 48% at three years? Beta blockers don’t do shit, Summer!” I quaked, trying to keep my voice down but it ran from me, exploding into frustration.

“Morty?” Even though I couldn’t see her, I could feel her hurt, gaze thin and blue as robin egg shells. I had never sworn at her before.

“God I’m- I’m sorry. Are you crying? Please don’t cry. Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I just-” I stumbled along panickedly.

“I’m trying. I’m trying so hard, Morty, but you shouldn’t have to. And if- if I d-die in like, a year- or a month- or something- I don’t want you to feel responsible for it. ...It’s going to hurt so badly…” Her breathing grew faster and I was afraid the stress could create further tears in her heart (literally), but I couldn’t rein myself in as I full out shouted at the receiver. Yes, the louder I said it, the more likely it would come true.

“You’re not going to die, you hear me? You’re not going to die! Is this- are you- are you thinking of what mom said?” Because while she was not our mother, Summer was my sister. I stared intensely at an unseen point in space in the phone booth, silently waiting and dreading her answer.

“She told me I was better off dead!” Summer wailed, a sound that made my heart crack, fissures cutting through the surface at break-neck speed. The skin held resolutely as I played my role.

“And why should you listen to her, you think? She is no more significant than a stranger, she doesn’t know you the way I do, and I know a smart, strong girl who I’m proud to call my sister.”

“I just- what if she’s right? What if I don’t have what it takes to make it? You’ve worked so hard and I don’t want to let you down… Not after all this time...”

“Don’t you worry about me, just focus on taking care of yourself, you’ve come so far.” I said earnestly, though it was mostly for my sake.

“I called to ask if you would like me to come over on October 4th, approximately two weeks. If you feel like having a visitor, I mean.”

“Oh my gosh, are you kidding me!” She squealed with excitement and the cloudy day was gone in a flash. 

I grinned widely into the phone at her joy and mentally patted myself on the back for always having good news in reserve for her.

“Yup, is there anything you’d like me to bring you?”

“Only yourself, I couldn’t ask for more.”

“I love you.”

“Love you too, Mort.”

“Your call has exceeded three minutes. Please insert fifty cents to continue call, or hang the receiver back on the hook to end.”

\--------------------

The only thing that made me walk through the front door was that Rick would probably snatch me off the street and beat me if I didn’t meet his deadline. I returned empty-handed without any groceries. How could I? They would all melt.

As I expected, the sound of moans and mattress squeaking dug at my insides as I eyed the bottle of wine, half-spent and two glasses knocked over in their haste to get to the bedroom.

I remembered my thirteenth birthday, when Beth told me I could have my own room. I asked for the one at the end of the hall because it had a great view to a grand old tree in the backyard, twisting comfortably, all wrinkly and smiling facelessly. Now I hated it because in order to get to it, I had to pass Beth’s room as well, from which the disgusting and depraved noises of sex seeped from.

I involuntarily pressed my lips into a thin line and my nose hiked up by itself as the natural revulsion that one feels, dubbed the Westermarck effect, towards witnessing— or hearing— their biological mother having sex. All that fell away though and was taken over by a much greater concern, and I am sure I looked like a cadaver caught mid-shellshock, when one little whimpered word slipped out the crack under the door and turned my gut stone cold.

“J-Jerry…” There she was, thin neck (or relatively thin, as she was of the female sex) laid bare along with the rest of her body for Alan to wring in all his fury at the discovery of being used as a shell like he had done to her. For the real Jerry was probably working in a goddamn Sonic kitchen, yet she called for her fruitless ex-husband in the middle of Alan gripping her hips with his dick buried in her.

I supposed I hated her— there was not an ounce of respect or goodwill left between the two parties— but dear God if I had wanted to see her die once more by Alan’s parasitic, scummy hands. Thus, I clung to the laminated wood outside her room for a whole ten seconds before deciding I didn’t actually care enough to intervene. If she wasn’t yelling for help at this point, I could only assume that they were contently going at it.

I tore myself away from the spot where I was standing and entered my room.

I ran my finger along the edge of the slip of paper absentmindedly. _Saturdays or Sundays?_ I doubted it mattered, but I wanted out of the house right now. The clouds had broken and their insides fell towards Earth in torrential, murky droplets, trapping me indoors and eating me alive. I took out a pen and circled the handwritten “Saturday” on the slip hazardously and then just stared at it, sitting on my mattress cross-legged. Nothing happened and I inner-facepalmed myself. Did I think it would just teleport to him with a fancy holographic disapparation?

I jumped as the note did just that, hovering into the air and disappearing into thin air with sci-fi noises. 

Okay, then. I buried my head underneath my pillow to barricade as much sound as I could of the next room and waited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***survival rate for type b aortic dissection is actually anywhere from 48%-82% at 5 years, poor babe just got his numbers muddled up**
> 
> thank you for reading! you've been absolutely instrumental to helping me write this and i am very grateful.
> 
> dOnATE tO tHE POOR


	16. Your Life Is Not a Sob Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> unless it is? i mean, if you could tell that this is about slightly more than rick and morty's love life or their suffering, then i consider my job well done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahahahahahahahahahahahaha two weeks of waiting for only this
> 
> i don't even cry anymore when i'm distressed i just laugh out loud
> 
> plz dont kill me agh
> 
>  
> 
> holy crap haha r/m tag is at 989 works~~~
> 
> also holy crap 20,000+ words!! <3 you all

The note was a pleasant visitor, an interlude to my horribly boring afternoon as I scrolled through different orders for various substances, frowning at ones from off-planet that one: would usually suck up my portal juices, and two: could not directly fund my genetically-modified blue peafowl collection. I snatched it from the air where it floated between my computer and my face. I checked my Earth watch amongst the others on my wrist: 5:32 P.M..

I leaned back in my chair to call Birdperson in the next room: “Birdperson! Pick up Morty for me, please? And to the house this time, the cold floor of the warehouse hurt my knees.” God yes, a proper bed with the company of a drawer that held every sex toy imaginable, like I had spent my adolescence as an R rated boy scout and collected them all.

“Today? Really? But you gave him until Sunday.”

“The proof’s in the Glip Glop pudding, my good man, look.” I waved the paper proudly in his face, the word “Saturdays” (as in every Saturday from this point on, my my,) circled in black ink.

He took it in his big hand and said, without skipping a beat: “You forged it.”

“No, I _didn’t_! I portaled into his bedroom, put it down along with his backpack, even had a few drinks before I left. How could I have possibly forged it?” I tried and failed to keep a pout off my face, frustrated with him for back talking me. Again.

“I do not believe for a split second that Morty would voluntarily see you a whole twenty-four hours earlier than absolutely demanded.”

“Please, I’m not _that_ desperate. Who do you think I am?” I took a swig from my flask before pushing back in my swivel chair from my computer, capping it and leaving it in the pocket of my lab coat hanging on the wall next to me.

“Come on now, we’re wasting time.” I used one leg to kick the chair into the desk, its wheels whirring loudly as I entered the bathroom, looking around for the reproachable container of hair gel.

He glared at me before turning to grab his suit jacket, beige-grey feathers on his neck ruffled up in jagged waves.

“Don’t forget the tranquilizer, stay safe.” I called to him over my shoulder. His eyebrow shot up in gentle surprise before shooting a timid smile at me, disappearing into his room at my reminder to grab it.

Too easy.

Sometimes people were broken like that, you give them a little bit of affection and they’ll do anything just to have more of it. I’m not complaining, though, at least I’ll always have someone to cook me dinner.

I washed and dressed in much the same fashion as I had the day before, if only settling into a looser pair of trousers and maybe omitting underwear. Now, the hair gel. It blinked cheerfully at me sitting on the counter, mocking my bald spot, hairless as an egg on the back of my head and how eternally frizzy and turbulent my persistent blue mane was. Rick Sanchez didn’t give a fuck about his hair and the universe wasn’t worth bending backwards for, damn it.

I grabbed it anyway, sighing to myself.

\-------------------------- 

_Breathe in. The pillow smells like dust and the remnants of clammy 12 A.M.’s. In the next room, your mother is whoring herself out like a wench saving up for their imminent retirement. Why does this sound so much like the damn Dark and Troubled Past page on TV Tropes?_

Breathe in. The pillow smelled like dead skin bits and midnight mist that had followed me home. In the next room, my mother was whoring herself out like the physical contact was the only way to stay sane. But I? No no, I was perfectly mentally stable and I would never, ever, be like her. Even if I met dozens of people a month who were degenerate and lost, I would never become like them, not even as I waited in my room for someone to take me to another man’s bed, er– warehouse floor. That was what I thought when the doorbell rang.

I stowed my switchblade in the back pocket of my jeans, locked my room, and went downstairs, passing the closed bedroom door with only a single strand of disgust and reproach dripping down my spine.

“Hello, Morty. We meet again.” Birdperson looked down at me and said, in his deep, mellow voice, entire person filling the frame of the doorway.

I failed to hold back a laugh. It was such a drama-esque thing to say and I fully expected the thunder to clap behind him for effect. Was anything real? He cocked his head at me curiously and I held out a hand for him to wait as I finished giggling.

“Nothing, sorry. It’s- it’s nothing. Hi.”

“You seem… cheerful, for someone who is uh…” He faltered, likely searching for a way to not say what he was about to. He opened a giant umbrella to stall for time, moving aside courteously for me. We walked under the cover of the umbrella to his car silently.

“Are you alright?” He settled on lamely, opening the backseat door of the black car for me. My eyeballs tingled and I could feel my breathing grow faster and shallower at the familiar interior.

“How alright could I be right now, you think?” I chuckled, situating myself on the luxurious seat and strapping myself into the seatbelt. The tension was thick in the air even as my smile felt glued to my face. Birdperson got into the driver’s seat and drew a silky curtain across the partition separating the front and back of the vehicle that prevented passengers from seeing where they were going. The windows were also tinted more heavily than before, nearly opaque. I supposed there was some sort of function that could control it, since the day before I was able to see part of my journey home. I felt a bit like a criminal except the authorities were strangely into BDSM, what with their black silks and tinted windows. 

The ride felt like hours though I was sure it was shorter, but the back was such a secluded place that I couldn’t tell. I jiggled my knee nervously. There was nothing for me to _do_ , left alone with my thoughts and infinite possibilities for the next few hours. I nearly started bouncing off the walls from apprehension.

When we arrived, I was taken aback by the _grandeur_ of the place. I hadn’t expected to be taken to the man’s actual house. It was tall and white, with ornate marble bird baths of all things (Did he have a bird fetish?) decorating the walkway to the front door. The estate was hedged with well-trimmed bushes taller than I was and the place glowed even in the pouring rain. It looked like one of the villas of a name-brand pop singer. I looked around to confirm that, indeed, there was ample empty land between the house and the others, which were of a grand scale but definitely less extravagant than the one he owned. There were no animals roaming the grass, however. My eyebrows furrowed at a column of smoke on the pasture a few hundred yards out that rose persistently into the sky despite the pouring rain.

“Birdperson, what’s uh- what’s that?” I pointed hesitantly at the smoke. He leaned over to see what I was looking at before reaching up a big hand to rub at the scruff of his neck nervously.

“That… is an experiment… that… Rick… is doing.” He said slowly, amber eyes much more disturbed than what his words should have invoked. Wonderful. Not only did Rick Sanchez likely make more money as the CEO of a drug company than the combined salaries of every employed person on my entire street _and_ could snuff out my entire family at the snap of a finger _and_ apparently, also dabbled in arcane, probably illegal science. I should have expected it, the living, breathing proof was stood next to me, still guilelessly holding the umbrella for me and letting his suit get wet as I balked at the spot on the field. 

“Would you like to…?” He prompted me and I snapped back to reality with slight embarrassment.

‘Yes, please.” Even the tiles of the pathway were expensive-looking, small embroideries around their frames that were wholly unnecessary but very pleasing to look at. That struck me as strange, that he would care about beauty so much as a man of (apparently) science, but I thought of his greased hair and weird charades and decided that maybe it wasn’t too far off for him to care about his image.

“One moment.” Birdperson held out an arm in front of me as he shook out the droplets from the umbrella. He walked forward, planted his feet onto the placemat and stood very still. Nothing visible happened for a good three seconds, but then the front door– a lacquered, carved, mahogany beauty– swung open automatically and he ushered me in. I pulled off my sneakers without looking at them, fixated on how lovely the house was.

Have you had enough of me describing this place? This _Goddamn_ place, with its fucking posh-as-all-hell decor, tall Cathedral ceilings that all the rich people loved, and glittering chandeliers suspending from it casting a gentle crystalline glow over the foyer. As Birdperson led me further into the house, my eyes settled on a tipped-over bottle of something probably expensive in the open kitchen, clear liquid pooling over the marble counter.

“Pay no mind to that, I had not found an opportunity to clean it up.” Birdperson sounded appropriately apologetic, but I hardly believed that Birdperson would let anyone leave a spill in such a well-kept house, even more so if he was the one taking care of household duties, so it must have been too recent for him to have noticed. I thought of the strange tic tac smell on Rick’s breath and the abnormally fast pile-up of bottles in my house’s trash can and had a completely inconsequential epiphany. 

Rick had broken into my house. He had broken into my house, drank all of Beth’s beer, and... returned my backpack. Birdperson was abso-fucking-lutely correct, he was pervasive like the plague, with the ability to uproot everyone’s lives and fling it into the dumpsters without a single care, yet… I imagined him standing in the middle of my living room, frowning at the lack of lighting in the house and opening the curtains to let some sun in. 

We passed several rooms, some open like the kitchen and living room, others quiet and closed and now a little bit scary as I became more aware that Rick was also a scientist. A space-travelling, alien-recruiting scientist. Birdperson led me to the room furthest down the hall, its appearance inconspicuous and nondescript. Innocent. He knocked on the door in a memorized rhythm and from within, the old man called out:

“Come in.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next one's allllll smut i promise
> 
> have you ever seen me break a promise?
> 
> love you guys, stick around lmao we're getting somewhere and i swear (maybe) the next chapter's gonna come faster, or at least i'll write more (maybe)
> 
> thank you for reading! <3 self advertising lmao i wrote another angsty r&m fic while putting this one on the back burner
> 
> Until I'm Numb: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15163055


	17. Ambivalence is Not a Natural State

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> smutty smuts, first of four in this story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh. my god. really sorry it's so late guys, i wanted to have the complete scene for you but... i have to split it into two just to give you guys something. sorry!!! i always struggle with smut and right now i'm not entirely satisfied with this excerpt...
> 
> sgdhjgsbv forgot to mention that i don't condone this shit, morty's brain is using an immature coping method

Birdperson subtly stepped behind me, assuming the position of the presenter and blocking my way out. He didn’t mean it to feel that way, of course, but the implicit meaning was there in his broad shoulders, resolute and immovable, for he was a pawn of Rick’s, not my ally. I couldn’t ask more of him, really couldn’t, to defy a man he was so loyal to, whether that loyalty was procured forcibly, and risk all that he had for some kid. I shivered, feeling like a slab of meat sorely unprepared, up for sale and vulnerable to inspection and judgement. With Birdperson’s silent guidance, I opened the door and entered, eyes fixed on the wooden floorboards.

I couldn’t bring myself to look at Rick (Rick? Normal name. Less normal guy. Not even a guy, an idea; an amalgamation of ideas, revolting and concerning and fascinating. It was easier to think of him as “the man”) as I entered, instead scoping the room, drinking in trivial details to occupy my mind. It looked surprisingly normal, no high-tech gadgets anywhere. Next to the bed where my peripheral vision strayed dangerously close to his form, no doubt lounging on his California King— that was where his voice had come from— there was a dresser, fine wood and shiny. On the other side, another door led to somewhere else, possibly a walk-in closet. I noted that although he did himself well on his furniture and house, there was nothing in his room that one would just look at; no paintings of naked women, no snooty marble busts of philosophers that would tie the rich-person room together.

The door closed with a quiet click and I whipped my head to it, partially startled and partially scared. Too late, I tried to quell the dismay on my face and _not_ look like a cornered animal, and Rick chuckled quietly.

“Like the view? I thought maybe you would appreciate a nice bed. I know I do.” 

Fucking disgusting.

“Come here, sweetheart, let me have a closer look at you.” His voice always had that edge to it, the unspoken threat lingering just under the waves that you could only see in his eyes, that however politely he asks, you had no other choice.

He patted the sheets warmly, a smile in his posture and I made my way over, focusing on the way my knees made the mattress dip slightly as I climbed onto the bed closer to him, socked feet pushing at the corners of the silk sheets. It was always silk sheets. Only a few feet, no closer than beckoned. Maybe he would think I was being good and following orders, instead of being literally, physically repelled.

I could feel his gaze burn through my clothes, absorbing every detail of my scrawny, tensed up body. I wasn’t sure what to do with my arms, my head, anything, and I was terrified of looking good.

Why was it all so damn slow? The fucking warehouse was better than this- this slow, _careful_ sweep he was doing with those piercing eyes.

I dared myself a glance at his face. 

Fuck, he was looking directly at me. Unflinching. Terrifying. 

I turned away again, but he caught me by the jaw roughly and twisted my head back. Almost as an afterthought, he gentled his touch and nearly cradled my chin instead, cold fingers stroking my skin on their journey down to the flat bottom of the bone. The whiplash-inducing difference in his mannerisms was jarring and I shivered in his grasp, looking desperately at anything else. He had greased his hair again. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried not to look like a crying baby.

Sometimes, if you are very careful and observant, you can feel the heat of another person radiating off of them despite them not touching you. I felt his breath on my cheek, acrid still from the drink he had earlier, smoothing over my face. Smaller billows of warm air emanated from his nostrils and kissed my eyelids. The tendrils of heat reached closer and my eyes fluttered open slightly.

My heartbeat stumbled at the sight. 

It couldn’t be, that his lidded eyes, framed by greying lashes, were trained on my face with a look of adoration. It couldn’t be, that his chapped, thin lips hovered over mine in anticipation of a gentle kiss. His tall torso arched over my form, but he did not feel oppressive. Lit by the comfortable, warm light of his room, Rick Sanchez felt like home in a way a sane mind would never have allowed him to. My hands hesitantly went to his front, grazing at the fabric of his shirt as I leaned in subtly. I’m sure I had a dirty, lustful look on my face, because the next second he was pulling away from me with a cruel smirk stretching his lips.

I couldn’t help the small whine that escaped from between my parted lips, giddy with freedom but pushing me into the ravine. His eyes glittered with something I could not read.

_You idiot. You are his toy, not his lover. If you keep wanting him, you will never be free of him._

I wanted. I wanted. Despite myself, I wanted. I wanted love, wanted something nicer to go home to than a loveless mother, a dark house, endless torment in my dreams; wanted something to keep for myself that wasn’t fear or hate. I wanted someone to hold me like I mattered. The movies made it seem so fucking easy. _Haven’t we been here before, with what you wanted from the world and what the world wanted to give to you? Suck it up already._

Rick would not give me what I needed, not even with his handsome face or his smart brain or his one-way-mirror eyes, because he lacked a heart. Or at least he did in regards to me. It was not love that was between us, and that was exactly the way things should be.

As if to challenge my unspoken train of thought, Rick touched me by the nape of my neck this time, pulling our faces together, and it felt almost like my dream, that he was innocent and sweet and caring. He was warm, and our lips moved in tandem, him pulling me in, nibbling and sucking on my swelling lip and leading an elaborate dance of passion and intimacy. His tongue felt like sandpaper and tasted like booze as it intruded my mouth and wrapped around mine. His hand that braced my back closer to him fell to the hem of my shirt, fingers teasing at it artfully so that the motion could pass for unintentional, but each time the fabric rode up slightly, he pressed the warm, roughened pad of his thumb into the exposed skin on my back.

I thought it was not in his nature to be gentle, and I was correct. He snarled into my mouth, already impatient with the slow pace that was set, biting my lip painfully. He ensnared the flailing muscle in my mouth which was not new to kissing, but had never been assailed by such intense and expert ministrations, twirling our heat together as he crowded ever closer. I was scared again, he being so much like a giant wave, ready to swallow me up and sweep me away. Too much.

Both his hands raked down my back now to grab at my ass and pull me closer, and he ran his hands up my legs and along my behind until he suddenly jerked away. From my back pocket he pulled out my switchblade which I had brought with me unthinkingly. Immediately I regretted not using at an earlier point when I could have stabbed somewhere important, but it was far too late for that now as his hand clamped vice-like around my neck to bring me to his eye level.

“What the fuck is this, Morty?” He growled. The tip of his nose pressed against mine, his eyes murderous as he spat at me. His papery skin crinkled uglily.

“It’s not to- f- please-” I gasped fruitlessly, grabbing at his unyielding wrist as he flicked open the knife with his other hand. My eyes widened in fear. He wouldn’t- oh God please- I tried to look as much as I possibly could like I was begging for mercy, though it didn’t take much acting on my part.

Rick released my throat and the momentum of my struggles flung me backwards, but thanks to his ridiculously large bed I didn’t bang my head on the floor, instead landing with a whoosh of air on my back, caught by the mattress. He clambered over me ungracefully but alarmingly swiftly and held the knife to my neck. I breathed shallowly under it, eyes flickering between his face and the light glinting off the blade. It screamed at me and blood beat rapidly at my temples. I played the impending scenario over and over in my head, feeling the phantom pain of skin then blood vessel splitting and imminent death. Maybe he’d rape the corpse if he was into that kind of thing.

“I wanted to be good to you.” He cried softly, hand trembling and the sharp knife nicking my skin at erratic intervals, “Why couldn’t you be good for me?”. He shifted so his knees were set apart beyond mine and lowered himself forward. His hold grew sloppy as he started licking my neck, dipping his head into my chest and swirling his tongue into my collarbone and wetting the collar of my shirt. I held back a hiss as the tip of the knife carved a bloody crescent into the bottom of my chin.

“You know… I turned off so much of my security system for you… I let you into my house… D’you think I’m stupid or something? I’m not stupid, Morty.” He pushed my shirt up abruptly with his free hand, catching the fabric over my pert nipples as he lathed everywhere on my torso. 

“I could list them all… Everything fucking- fucking too advanced for your puny mind to understand.” He grumbled, and his ramblings would have been entertaining to hear if it wasn’t for the fact that he was making his way closer to my crotch, which was reacting with enthusiasm that no one needed. He smirked self-satisfiedly to himself when he saw the tent in my jeans, as if I had given him free reins to do anything he wanted. He breathed teasingly over the small brown hairs leading to my crotch and I whined in despair.

I was frightened at the thought of losing myself. It was something I was very careful not to do with my clients the one or two times— it was rarely more than that, due to the number of risks that came with regular meetings— I serviced them, but none of them had made me feel this way either, a jumbled juxtaposition of attraction and repulsion to conflicting traits that should never have existed within one person.

My mind screamed at him to leave me the fuck alone and stop intruding into my life. It screamed at him to stay and caress my face a moment longer, please please please. The two voices overlapped together in a shitty chorus of dissonance and frustration, swelling in my cranium and threatening to split it in half.

God, I’m going insane.

\--------------------------

I’ve gone insane. 

It was simply foolish to let him have such an effect on me, and yet here we are, my plans flushed down the drain because he was too damn smart for me to have it my way. Of course he was, and now I have to teach him a lesson.

My vision filmed over red when I found Morty’s knife, the blaring reminder that he wasn’t. Mine. Blood still simmered quietly behind my eyeballs as I yanked off his t-shirt completely and pocketed his switchblade hazardously. 

It was foolish, to be taken by his smooth skin and peridot eyes and the way he fought tirelessly, like every move he made created ripples in the space-time continuum.

They might as well have, for his smell invaded my nostrils and wrapped around my head, drawing my face closer to his crotch. I couldn’t help the small rumble of arousal bouncing around in my throat as I feverishly undid his fly and pulled off his pants to get at the prize within, my erection swelling to press insistently at my own zipper.

And God, what a prize it was. All of him was so much better to look at because the lighting was no longer (purposefully) abysmal. His bare body laid nervously on the silk sheets, hands floating around his prick but knowing better than to actively cover himself. I marveled at how I hadn’t noticed before that he shaved, little pricks of soft brown hair standing up at the root. I moaned softly into the base of his young, pink cock, nose nestling between his warm sack to breathe in the teenage musk exuding off of him. Even if we were being incredibly, mind-numbingly vanilla, the power imbalance was intoxicating.

He writhed beneath me, ever lively and the struggle made it so much hotter. I grinned widely as I licked in a strip all the way up to his reddened tip, delighted in watching him squirm. I wrapped a few drops of clear pre-cum on my tongue as I pushed myself up.

I captured his lips in a bruising kiss as my hand snaked down to jerk him off, telling myself I deserved it for dressing up and the good ten minutes of gentleness I had given him. Whose house were we in anyway? His lips tasted sweet with just a dash of sour fear, but I lapped it all up like tasty candy. I drew back for air and looked my fill at his slim body, his chest rising shallowly up and down under my scrutiny. I saved the view of his face for last, because it was it was sure to be the best. 

His red-rimmed eyes swam with fear.

My stomach flipped at the thought of how much of him I had already taken. He was just a boy. How old was he? Seventeen? Eighteen? The quivering form beneath me looked no older than fifteen, not taking the brunt of puberty just yet, soft everywhere and really, really cute. I rapidly took out my own shaft from my trousers and pumped furiously, shimmying a little higher to line up my length to his entrance. Something held me back from plunging in dry, a little voice that told me to take better care of him or maybe just stop entirely and send him home with a nicer shirt than his current one.

_You can’t feel bad now, you’ve already fucked him before, remember?_

My cock throbbed with approval. I rubbed his thigh absentmindedly as I reached over into the drawer to grab lube. Tubes and tubes of it clattered against their individual sectioned-off containers (yes I have a drawer specifically for lube, go fuck yourself), moving with the opening of the drawer. I decided on an edible yet tasteless bottle, not wanting to mask either of our tastes.

His asshole looked delicious. The lube bottle chanted: “Lick his asshole! I can make it good and slippery for your tongue to thrust in!” I sighed to myself. Leave it to a genius to pick the right lube even before I knew I wanted it.

The viscous lube dripped enticingly down his balls, to the patch of skin between his sack and his hole, and then dipping into the pink-rimmed cavern _just so_ , and a guttural moan was punched from my lungs. I shucked off my restricting pants entirely, letting them fall to the floor as I pounced.

\-----------------------

I have two types of customers.

1\. The loving and loyal fathers or boyfriends (Very rarely do I get a female customer, but I turn them down anyway because they ended up reminding me too much of Beth). I was a dirty secret for them, not only trading drugs with a minor but also to fuck them because things were going poorly at home. Lonelier after the endeavor, they flinch when our gaze meets and my eyes are not the ones they promised to love. These made up 80%.

2\. The addicts. These were single, queer men who were in it for fun. They were easily hooked on pleasure and loved the idea of having an illicit boy toy. I would refuse a second or third meeting, of course, but then they try to call me back with sweet talk and favors. Depending on the supply that week, I may just have to take up their offers and let them take me to bed. This was also very rare, for it could be dangerous.

Rick apparently gravitated towards the second. Extremely so, yet none had been so annoyingly bratty and powerful as he.

I watched fearfully now, because what the fuck was he ducking his head down for? I watched the pill-blue hair descend between my legs and felt something hard and wet stroke my perineum. I couldn’t place what it was for a moment until I realized with a jolt that it was his tongue, the flat of it lapping wetly around my hole. I clenched involuntarily and he hummed at the pressure, the vibrations teasing my sensitive rim.

Rick Sanchez, the Great and Mighty, no doubt had never had a flicker of self-doubt about him, no stripe of humility upon his shriveled heart, was rimming me, eating my asshole like a starved man, and all I could think was how utterly pleasurable it was, each stroke and probe of his tongue sending shudders through my body.

It was a strange experience, even more so since I had never had it done to me before. Straight, self-respecting men don’t lick assholes for pleasure, and why would they? Most of them would be turned off by even the sight of my cock or balls, and licking a distinctly dirty and male place was sure to take them right out of their mood. It served them no purpose. All the better for me, so that I wouldn’t have to jerk off afterwards from actually enjoying selling my body.

Point was, I was feeling a sense of wonder from it all, so much that I put aside my discomfort for the time being.

It turned me more than I’d like to admit, more than how good it felt, but the figure of power-incarnate between _my_ legs and slurping at _my_ hole was so much better. It was only the illusion of control, as I still writhed under his tongue, but I toyed with the idea that I was the one with the power and held onto it willfully with my eyes clenched closed, not wanting to see the drops of precum that I could feel sliding traitorously down my cock.

Of course it was I who made it feel good for myself, I deserved it.

_Morty, you’re a real-life idiot._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading as always <33

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!! ;u; this is gonna be one of the longest things i've ever written (probably) and i'm excited ! please dont rush me though, school's always a butt and i cant guarantee i'll do this quick /)n(\
> 
> as always, all comments/kudos/feedback is appreciated! love you all <33


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